


Golden Years

by whitewinehouse (orphan_account)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crude Humor, Dark Comedy, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Explicit Language, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Negan version of fluff, Psychological Introspection, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexual Themes, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, action adventure, explores morality, pre season 6/now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 46
Words: 96,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/whitewinehouse
Summary: As you comfort a dying man through his transformation, he speaks of a survivalist colony unlike any other. Intrigued by the promises of modern amenities and unaware of their politics, you leave in search of the Sanctuary.You hear their leader before you see him.Negan is unpredictable, violent, and impressed by your cajones. After learning about the peculiar way you make ends meet, he proposes a business deal that you can't pass up. But from a little spark bursts a flame, and your relationship escalates into a passionate wildfire. However, you've been keeping your past secret, unaware of just how relevant it is. Wildfires are merciless, but old flames can burn just as hot.





	1. Charlie Hustle

Heaps of rotten flesh clung to Negan’s shoulders as he leisurely strolled through the Savior’s home base. The smell was putrid and made his eyes burn. His pristine leather jacket was shot to shit from the coagulated blood and guts - however, the state of his clothing was the least of the man’s problem. His entire compound was currently surrounded by a hoard of moaning, flesh eating, pain-in-the-ass _Night of the Living Dead_ assholes. They were already out of electricity and would surely run out of food and water before the end of the week, but he couldn’t wipe that shit eating grin off his face.

Chaos. Negan was at the end of the hallway and he could already hear the sound of the Savior’s social structure collapsing – and all because he had gone missing for a few hours. They were his flock and he was their Shepard. Negan chuckled.

No.

He was their god.

At the sound of a gunshot, he let out a lazy whistle. He was met with silence. God, he almost gave himself goose bumps.

Rounding the corner, he gazed upon his kneeling subjects. The room had gone deathly quiet as Negan shot the crowd a crooked grin. He threw Lucille over his shoulder.

 “And just _where_ is my sweet girl?” he demanded loudly. The group exchanged nervous glances and shuffled anxiously on the floor. Negan raised a bemused eyebrow at their response. “I think,” he began slowly, “I asked you a question.” Although his tone was pleasant, his words were laced with an unsaid threat.

Simon lifted his head. Adverting his gaze, he confessed. “She left. With Rick.”

Negan licked his lips. “Did that self-righteous, podunk cop take her by force?” Just the thought of the limp dick cop putting his hands on you made his grip on Lucille tighten.

Simon’s usual show boating, smartass air was nowhere to be seen as he admitted the dismal truth. He looked like a dog who had been caught pissing on the carpet. With a wince, he answered, “No. She decided on her own.”

Negan wasn’t sure whose head he bashed in, but he knew the next skull he’d pulverize would be Rick Grimes’.

~*~

Your boots squelched as they sunk down into the mud. A hiss escaped your lips as a flood of freezing muck drenched your sock. You flipped the hood of your jacket over your head and looked at the sky. You could just see the rolling storm clouds through the forest’s leafy canopy.

 “Will it ever stop raining?” you asked yourself.

You weren’t quite sure how long you had been doing this – surviving. The world seemed to have gone up in flames in a matter of seconds. They thought they could contain it. It was the folly of man – believing that they were evolved enough to have control over everything.  You chuckled humorlessly. You had never felt so helpless in your life.

As the years ticked by, people had started to accept their new reality. Almost the entire population lost all semblance of humanity and had become vicious, man-eating monstrosities that lumbered and wheezed right out of a B horror film. Every day was a fight to survive. You no longer lived. Understandably, it took a long time for most to get used to their loved ones being decaying cannibals, but it happened eventually.

You were different. In an instance of obscene stubbornness, you decided to deny what was around you. Logically you knew your reality – you weren’t an idiot, but you would put a bullet through your head if you lost hope in a cure. So you danced in willful ignorance, pretending that someone somewhere was getting something done. As long as you kept telling yourself that, you could wake up in the morning.

Your father had been a very wise man, now a dead man, but a wise man nonetheless. He had offered you a bit of wisdom that you never forgot, and it was what kept you alive today.

“There are two sure fire ways that will keep you off the streets,” your dad said as he turned the page of his newspaper. “Either open a grocery or liquor store. People always have to eat, and people always need a good, stiff drink.”

17 year old you eyed your dad over your glass of orange juice. “I don’t think anyone technically needs a drink, dad.”

Your dad shook his head. “What I mean is, people drink when they’re happy, and people drink when they’re depressed.” He shrugged. “You’ll never run out of customers if you’re in the right place.”

“Better not be near a Wal Mart,” you chided before scooping up a spoonful of Captain Crunch.

After everyone was wiped out, you took your dad’s words to heart. Many would be shocked to hear how many would be willing to trade their food for alcohol, but people were willing to do anything for just a few hours - hell, even a few minutes, of numbness. It offered them an escape from the wretched reality that was now planet Earth. You traded all of the alcohol you could find for supplies and you had yet to go hungry.

Like your father said, people wanted liquor when they were depressed.

Your hiker’s backpack was packed with an array of booze, from light beer to low quality moonshine you were forced to make when you weren’t able to find a good place to raid. For quick access you had several bottles secured in a tool belt fastened around your waist, but the fabric had worn, and a bottle slipped.

It shattered, its shards glistening with raindrops. You winced as the crash reverberated off of the trees. 

Panic shot through you like wildfire. A lump caught in your throat and goose bumps blanketed your skin. It was when you heard the first guttural groan that a shiver went up your spine.

Its stench was putrid. As the woman –thing, lurched forward, a hunk of skin slid down its calf, exposing a nest of writhing maggots. You ignored its filthy pink tea dress and matted blonde hair and reached for your gun. Without hesitation, you shot it between the eyes. The corpse collapsed and hit the ground. Although it lay motionless, your heart continued to flutter.

You would never get used to this.

“You’re a good shot.”

You whipped around, your gun held firmly in your hand, only to slowly lower it.

A man sat, slumped against the base of a tree. You must have been so high on adrenalin that you missed him. His skin was ashen grey and he had yellow-purple circles under his eyes. His hair was the color of straw and he wore a faded red flannel and a white t-shirt. Thick ropes were stretched across his chest and stomach, binding him to the trunk.

Without thought, you started forward.

“No!” the man croaked, stopping you in your tracks. “I was…” the man had to stop and catch his breath. “I was bit…had my friend tie me up. Too scared to be shot. Didn’t want to go walking around and-and bite people…” his head dropped to his chest and he let out a long sigh. “I made him leave. Just didn’t want him to see me turn into a…” his voice faded. When he remained quiet, you tiptoed over to him. Lolling his head back, you watched as his eyelids fluttered open.

“Do you want a stiff one before you go?” You pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and the tiniest of smiles graced the man’s lips.

“If someone were to ask me what was the best way to turn into a monster, this would be it.”

You returned the smile and sat down. Your shoulder brushed against his as you opened the bottle.

“Don’t you want to…move a little further?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Tell me when to stop.” You held the bottle to his lips and let him take a sip. 

The stranger hissed and gave a violent shake of the head. “Shit. _That_ …that is good stuff.”

From this distance you could see that he was glistening with sweat. “What’s your name?” you asked after he took another drink.

After a bout of dry coughing, the man answered “N-,” he snorted. “Fuck it. I’m about to…die anyway. Charlie.”

“It’s nice to me you, Charlie.” You gave him your name and he nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he managed. For a moment he was quiet, a pensive look on his face. Finally, he spoke. “Are you…are you alone or with…a…” his head nodded again.

You snapped your fingers. “Come on, Charlie. Not yet.”

Charlie burst awake with a snort. “Are you with a colony?”

You licked your lips. “I’ve been alone since the beginning.”

With a tiny nod, Charlie continued. “There’s a place a couple miles up…food, water, electricity…”

Your eyebrows shot up. Over the years you had heard whispers of survival camps, but never had you heard of modern amenities. As far as you knew, the modern world was a thing of the past.

“Just-just keep your head down. Do as they…as _he_ says. Be humble.” Charlie’s voice began to lose strength. “You’re strong. Take the knife. They’ll know.”

You pressed the cold bottle to Charlie’s lips. “Okay, bud. I’ll do that. Thank you.”  When Charlie didn’t respond, you turned. A pair of cloudy eye stared back at you.

You shot him before he could make a sound.

The knife had been on his thigh. Engraved on its handle was “Charlie Hustle.” With a sigh and a final lingering look at Charlie, you began your trek to the mysterious colony.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my Stranger Things readers, this was what I've been cooking up on the sly.
> 
> Like I said in the tags, there will be some drug use. I was inspired to write this after listening to David Bowie's album 'Station to Station,' which was written in the throws of his cocaine addiction and under his famously problematic, proc-fascism Thin White Duke persona. I was specifically driven by the track title, "Station to Station," "TCV15," and obviously, "Golden Years."
> 
> Be gentle. I re-wrote this five times. Like, wrote, completely deleted, and re-wrote. You had a dog at one point.


	2. Doo Wop

You whistled as you made your way down the abandoned road. The world didn’t have a lot of things anymore – food, water, shelter, happiness…but what you missed the most were movies. _Of course_ your loved ones were more important than a 7 hour chronological cut of _The Godfather,_ but you had already accepted the fact that they were gone, and the apocalypse could get so boring. You weren’t like your clients – you didn’t want to drink your sorrows away. You wanted to be swept away by a story that wasn’t your own.

You wanted to see other people have problems.

 _The Godfather_ wasn’t your only favorite movie. You had another, and it had a catchy song that you hadn’t been able to get out of your head since you first went to see it in theaters in the 70s. It had become your mantra, now more than ever.

_Show me the way to go home_

_I’m tired and I wanna go to bed_

A shiver ran up your spine. It was still raining, and your clothes were starting to get sodden. If you didn’t find shelter soon, you would surly get sick. You hoped to god that Charlie had been right about the colony. Your teeth could only chatter for so long.

Hugging your arms to your chest, you stared down at your boots, allowing the rain to slide down the back of your hood. You used to like the rain; its sound had been comforting and gave you a sense of peace. Now it just chilled you to the bone.

You couldn’t say how long you walked or stared at your shoes- you just knew that when you heard the sound of tires sailing through rainwater, your heart leapt into your throat. Twirling around without an ounce of grace, you watched as a convoy of five trucks drove towards you. Their headlights cut through the gloomy air, illuminating the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. You only had seconds to decide on your course of action.

There were three type of ways people reacted to strangers after the apocalypse: pity and mercy, dismissal, and the most common, kill on sight. Self-preservation was the number one priority and it was every man for himself in the wastelands. No one could afford to trust everyone so freely.

But you were desperate. “Charlie Hustle” had said _electricity_.

Double checking the distance between you and the cars, you readied yourself. When the time was right, you jumped into the middle of the road.

As you expected, the lead vehicle lay on the horn, making you wince.  You hunched over, shielding your eyes from the headlights. If you were going to be run over, you weren’t going to see it.

Instead of being smeared onto the cracked asphalt, you were doused in a tidal wave of murky rain water. By now you could feel the tips of your fingers and toes go numb, but you didn’t have time to dwell on whether you had hypothermia; for about ten car doors were ripped open and the sound of boots on gravel grated on your ears.

“Just what the _hell_ do you think you’re doing, girl?”

You looked up, water dripping off your lashes. Your accuser stood before you with his hands on his hips, his bushy mustache trembling with fury. He was a tall, lean man with dark, beady eyes that reminded you so much of a rat’s – like a cunning, vicious rat’s.

It took everything in you not to spit in his face, but the sound of the safety of a dozen or so guns being clicked off made you control yourself. You were completely flanked by a band of ruffians, each looking like they wanted to hurt you to a various degree. Surely these couldn’t be the people Charlie Hustle had been talking about.

Could they?

“I just needed to grab your attention. Someone told me about a colony and I figured that’s where you were heading.” You pulled out Charlie’s knife, earning collective gasps.

The stranger snatched the knife out of your hands. He held it up to his face, carefully inspecting it. His eyes flicked to you. “Did you kill Charlie Hustle?” he asked.

Your eyebrows shot up. You were offended. “The man was injured and dying before I even _got_ there. He tied himself to a tree so he wouldn’t turn anyone else. He died like a man." You pulled back when you earned a round of chuckles.

Rat man held up a finger. “Here’s what we’re gonna do – we’re going to go for a little ride. Then you’re gonna explain exactly how you got this knife.” His hand slipped into your tool belt. “Holy shit!” He held up your bottle of Pasión Azteca tequila.

It was a gaudy bottle with fake rhinestones and frosted glass. “I think the boss man might let us keep our dicks when he sees this!” He pat your cheek before opening the passenger side the door. “You can even sit up front with me.”

“What’s your name?” you asked suspiciously. “And who are you?” You looked at each man in turn.

The man only grinned. “We're all Negan.” He opened his arms wide. “And we’re your salvation.”

~*~

The ride itself wasn’t very eventful. You stared listlessly out the window at the decaying world.  The caravan would pass groups of walkers now and again, moaning as they ambled across the desolate landscape. It was about 30 minutes into the journey when you spotted something out of the ordinary.

On the top of a large hill sat a massive, decrepit billboard. Its paint was chipped and green with mold, but its message came across loud and clear.

**IF YOU DIED**

**TODAY WHERE**

**WOULD YOU SPEND**

**YOUR ETERNITY?**

Wasn’t that the question for the ages? If you asked your earlier self if you could kill, you would have said no without a thought, but now? You couldn’t even count the number of lives you’d taken. One could argue that it was in self-defense, or even out of mercy – but was it really up to you to decide who should live? They’ve always said that villains think they’re good guys, right? It’s the only way people could justify their own atrocities. Hitler certainly thought he was doing the world a favor.

“Now, you stay put until I come fetch you.”

You jumped in your seat. "Negan" hadn’t spoken to you the whole ride and the sudden change of pace startled you.

He formed his hand into a gun and pressed it to your temple. “Don’t open the door until I tell you to. Don’t want you to get shot.” His facial expression said the exact opposite.

You acknowledged the threat with a vague nod of the head. You were too busy staring up at the formidable building that stood before you. As the truck waited to pass through the entrance, you soaked in your surroundings.

It seemed that you had been whisked away to an abandoned factory. Whether it had been used for textiles, food, or even chemicals, you couldn’t say – but you knew that it was massive. Numerous smoke stacks loomed overhead like castle towers, standing unused for years.

You certainly weren’t going to find any princesses here.

The truck came to a screeching halt and ‘Negan’ grabbed one of your bottles of liquor before hopping out. For a moment the air was filled with rasps and moans.

However, it didn’t last long. For in a few seconds, a jovial, booming voice cut across the yard. “Simon, you sneaky little prick! Is this that Pasión crap? Do you want to come back to my place or something?” The rest of the conversation was inaudible. Squinting, you slid to the window and pressed your ear against the glass.

Guess those weren't rhinestones. 

As you struggled to hear, the door was wrenched open, causing you to almost fall out – but years of fighting off the living dead had sharpened your reflexes and you quickly steadied yourself. Wild eyed, you turned to catch a glimpse of your new friend.

“Hey, Simon?” he shouted. With much finesse, he began to circle your face with a baseball bat, moving it as if it were an extension of his arm – and the thing was _mean_. Wrapped in barbed wire and stained with what could only be blood… this was obviously not one’s typical T-ball bat. “Is this the girl you’re talking about, or just some really, _really_ convenient coincidence? Like…’Rod Serling’s gonna shoot out of your ass, smoking a cigarette and ready with an ironic and macabre twist that will make us all grow as people,’ kind of coincidence?” He put a hand over his heart.

The man from before stepped forward. “That would be her.” His eyes flicked up to you. “Get out here.” Before you could stand up, who you now knew as Simon took you by the wrist and pulled you out. Without a thought, you slapped him.

Simon lightly touched the corner of his mouth. Fresh blood dotted his fingertips when he held them up to his eyes.

“ _Oh!_ She made you look like a _bitch!_ ”

Now that you were out of the truck, you could finally get a proper look at this loud man whose first instinct was to jab a blunt force object in your face.

He was staring at Simon with his eyes comically wide and a gloved hand slapped over a grin. If someone had asked you, you would say he was either a member of a 1960’s greaser doo-wop group or the king pin of a motorcycle gang. The jeans were tight and the leather jacket was much too pristine for the post-apocalyptic world you lived in.

“So I’m in a bit of a conundrum here.” You were ripped from your thoughts when the man spoke. He casually leaned on the bat, draping one ankle in front of the other. “See, you royally fucked a bunch of my supplies by jumping in front of my trucks, but-” he held up the bottle liquor, “you also brought me a bottle of $3.5 million tequila.”

“Actually, I-” Simon tried.

“Shut the fuck up, Simon!” He turned to you and rolled his eyes while jabbing a finger at his number two, as if to say, ‘ _the nerve of some people!_ ’ “So the question is, should I be pissed off and smash your face in with Lucille and put your head on a spike because I have to use up more of my resources, _or_ should I just calm the fuck down and drink like a _goddamn king!?_ “

At his words his men began to cheer. He opened his arms. “I believe I have my answer.”

Simon was not happy. “She said that she _found_ Charlie dying and that she was told to find us!” he hissed.

His words were met with an arched eyebrow and a snort. “So your punishment was to give her what she wanted?”

You watched as the men spoke, shifting from foot to foot. It _seemed_ like you were going to be accepted, but you had learned to never take anything at face value. The old rules no longer applied here. So when the boss man sauntered over, you were prepared for anything.

With a charming smile, he stuck out his hand. “Negan, you’re new Lord and Savior.” When you gave your name, he shook his head. “Not anymore.”

_Show me the way to go home_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (/ω＼) I tried, man.


	3. Batter Up

 

At that moment, the rainclouds cleared and a swatch of blue sky peaked through the grey wisps.

Negan peered upward, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Well, look at that!” he grinned. “It’s like you were just destined to be a Savior!” He turned to you and slung an arm around your shoulders. “How about you, me, and Lucille here take a little walk? Show you the ropes?” He placed the bat only a hair’s breath away from your nose. When you didn’t wince, he gave you a friendly squeeze. “Oh, we are going to be _friends!_ ”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” A man in a leather vest and a blue bandana tied around his bicep stepped forward. He jabbed his rifle at you. “We don’t even know her yet.”

Negan pulled away. Turning, he held up a finger. “Are you saying that I can’t take care of myself?” he asked as he began to stalk towards the man, each step slow and deliberate.

The Savior immediately realized his mistake. His eyes became the size of dinner plates and he began to stammer. “N-no! Of-of course not-not!” He began to frantically look at his comrades, silently begging for help, but they had all stepped back.

“See, now you’re _arguing_ with me, Theo. I don’t like to be _argued_ with.” You watched as Negan stopped in front of Theo. The guy had to have at least 50 pounds on the boss, but he was still trembling like a leaf. “Theo, buddy…” Negan licked his lips and clapped a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “You’re making me look stupid in front of company and it’s so…not cool.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Theo whimpered.

You could only watch in stunned silence and Negan pat Theo’s chest.

“Yeah, I know. I know.” Negan stepped back. “And because I’m a _nice guy,”_ he shouted, “I forgive you!” Theo only had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before Negan spoke again. “But because you did it in front of someone new, I need to set an example.”

“Jesus Christ, no!” You reached out, but your cry was ignored. Theo had enough time to close his eyes before the sharp spikes of barbed wire pierced his skin and the bludgeoning force of Lucille crushed his skull. With a sickening thud, the top of his head caved in.

As Negan withdrew for another swing, brain matter and hunks of flesh clung to the wire and blood flew into the sky in a crimson arch. You looked away, unable to stomach the beating. Soon the rainwater around your feet was pooling red.

“Well don’t just stand there with your dicks in your hands, boys! Bury him! And do a good job. I really liked that that guy!”

You heard a chorus of “Yes sirs!” and the sound of what must have been Theo’s body being dragged away. You didn’t look up until you saw a pair of boots standing tip to tip with your own.

Negan winced. “Sorry. That was pretty lame – but he kinda forced my hand.”

You closed your eyes as you tried to find the best way to respond. “Was that an example of the justice system?”

Negan pursed his lips and briefly looked over his shoulder. “It’s one of the various options depending on how big of an asshole you are.” He tucked Lucille under his armpit and formed a circle with his thumbs and pointer fingers. “See, that’s what happens when it’s at prison size-”

You steepled your fingers over your nose. “You know, I don’t think this is a good fit.”

 “Are you really gonna turn down food, water, and shelter because of an asshole joke? Are you serious?”

“No it’s the-” you swung an imaginary bat and made a popping sound with your mouth.  

Negan watched your pantomime, clearly amused. “Don’t be stupid.” This time, there was honesty in his voice. “Listen, take a little stroll, and if you still want to throw away the best damn thing that has ever happened to you, then I won’t stop you.”

Your eyes searched his – and they were completely unreadable. Negan was truly something else. “Alright,” you finally conceded. _Electricity._

“Awesome.” He threw his arm back around your shoulder and pointed Lucille off to the left. “We’ll start over here.”

You began to walk at a leisurely pace. It quickly became clear just how big the place was. If Negan had enough men to fill the factory, the man had an entire army. You had no idea what to expect when you went inside. Charlie had described it as a paradise, but so far it had been nothing but a totalitarian prison.

“You know, I love the sound of my own voice, I really do – but it’s polite to pay attention when the person who so graciously lets you into his home is speaking to you.”

 “I was looking at your building,” you explained. “You hardly even need to fortify it.”

Negan let out a satisfied sigh as he looked over the factory. “Yu- _p_ ,” he popped the ‘p.’ “It’s pretty sweet, but I have something muy bueno to show you. Like, super cool!”

As you continued to walk, the moans and rasps became louder. Soon, they filled the air. It wasn’t until you rounded a corner did you see it.

It reminded you of a prison yard, and in hindsight, it was. Dozens of walkers stood behind a chain link fence, anchored to the ground in various fashions. Some were nailed to the concrete with stakes, while others were chained to the fence. It was hard to say how long they’d been there, but many showed signs of decay – torsos had fallen off and dead skin was left melted in the hot sun. You couldn’t help but be reminded of Vlad the Impaler, the ruler of Wallachia, Romania. It was said that he would impale his victims and watch them die over the course of days while he ate his dinner.

Most agreed the dinner part was a myth, but the impalement was very much real.

Negan flashed his white teeth. “Oh, I know that look,” he said softly, pointing at you with his free hand. “You’re judging me.” He ran his bat down the length of the fence and a symphony of the damned filled the air. “See, this is douchebag central. Every single one of these people here deserved what they got.” He pulled away. “Pick one.”

You pointed. “Tall, dark, and ugly – with the cargo shorts and the sandals.”

You earned a chuckle. “Other than the crime of being immensely unattractive and having a terrible fashion sense, he raped a 13 year old little girl.” Negan raised his eyebrows. “And that’s just not cool.” He dragged Lucille down the fence again, prompting more hisses. “We have rules at the Sanctuary, and if you don’t follow them, you either end up like them, like my good buddy Theo, and one other neat thing I’ll show you. Without rules, there's no order. Without order, you don’t have respect - and without respect, none of this works.” He held his hands out.

“This is disgusting.”

“Excuse me?” Negan jokingly cupped his ear. “I’m not sure if I heard that right because I _thought_ you just insulted me.” He began to lazily swing Lucille back and forth. It was slight, but you saw it – and he knew it.

You had had enough of Negan’s peacocking. “You could have just killed him, but instead you chose to put him out here as a scare tactic to frighten the people who are supposed to trust you.” You were talking fast, sure that he was going to interrupt you, but so far, he just stood there with his shit eating smile. “And don’t for one – for _one_ second think I don’t know you beat off to these. You’re not punishing them. They’ve died a long time ago.”

Negan touched his palm to his cheek, his face painted with awe. “That…was _amazing!_ If you told me that I would have a discussion about my mastabory habits with a woman who I just met, I would have put my life on ‘no.’ ” He leaned forward. “In the shower this morning. Had a dream about Sarah Connor,” he whispered with a wince.

If Negan hadn’t been as observant as he was, you would have left. He was vulgar, violent, and had a hair trigger, but he did something that completely shocked you.

“Oh, shit!” he swore, eyes lighting up as he moved your hair.

“Fuck off!” you snapped, venom in your voice. You grabbed Negan’s wrist, but it was too late.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “What the fuck happened to you?” You watched as his hazel eyes darted around the side of your head.

“I got burned. Happens every day.” You crossed your arms, waiting irritably for the inspection to be over. You were lucky – only your ear was burned. It lay almost flat against your head.

Negan was still bent over with one hand on his knee. “That is awesome.” He actually sounded genuine. “So did you yell at the fire too?”

He was giving you an out. You didn’t have to talk about it. For now.

“Yeah. I did.”

Negan opened his big mouth to respond, but something fell from your pocket. You tried to snatch it but Negan was too fast. He looked up at you and held up a small baggie of light brown powder between his fingers.

“Oh, you are really starting to get on my good side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, writing this has been an experience so far. All of my natural instincts have been turned upside down because now when I write something obscene I naturally want to delete it because I don't want to offend anyone, but that's THE POINT. Now I write dialogue and have to think, "How can I make this more inappropriate and hopefully funny?"
> 
> It's just as fun as I thought. I'm sorry these are short than everything else. This is actually the hardest thing I've had to write and I literally re-watched all of season 6 just to remember personalities because I am that author and I can't deal with OOC.


	4. China White

It had been the most amount of people you had seen since the outbreak of the virus. They knelt on the floor with their heads bowed. Even the biggest of men were humbled as they stared at the ground. It was truly a sight to see.

 For a room that was so crowded, it was as silent as a tomb.

You looked at the giant windows. Although they were covered in grit, they still let in enough light to show the dust particles twirling in the air.

You turned to your host, who was currently leaning against the railing, both hands firmly wrapped around the metal bannister. His eyes were closed and a smug smirk was plastered on his face as he soaked up the glory.

As if he could read your mind, Negan held up a hand. “Hold on.” When he was sure you were going to stay quiet, he let his hand fall back to the bannister. “Do you hear that?” he asked. He held his hand up again. “No, do you _feel that?_ ” If anyone was startled by his raised voice, they didn’t give any indication. “That is what respect feels like.” Negan looked at you and let out a content sigh. “See, we have a system here and it’s fair. It works, and we’re just the merriest bunch of assholes you’ll ever meet!” Adjusting his belt, he shouted, “All right! Up!” without ripping his eyes away from yours. With quiet murmurs, everyone shuffled to their feet and got back to work.

He was clearly trying to intimidate you and if you were anyone else, it would have worked – but you were used to dealing with men and women like him. The narcissists who think they’re untouchable were the most unpredictable, and yet the most predictable. Negan wouldn’t give up until he broke you like a twig under his shoe, but you would never take a knee. You would never treat anyone like a king.

You had kept unusually quiet since you got to what you now learned was the Sanctuary. By no way would you say that you were wise; you hadn’t been on the earth quite long enough yet, but you were an experienced adult who just happened to be alive when the world decided to go through its shit phase. So, you knew enough to understand that you needed to keep your mouth shut and your ears open for as long as possible.

“How long have you lived here?” you asked as you began to climb a flight of stairs. There were an endless amount of metal walkways and it seemed that Negan was determined to take you down all of them.

Negan spun around and began to walk backwards. “Long enough to make it look awesome.”

You watched his feet; it was shocking that he hadn’t tripped over his ego. You adverted your gaze, deciding to look over what could potentially be your new home.

It seemed that the Sanctuary had its own working economy. The first thing you smelled when you walked into the building was freshly baked bread and it had made your mouth water. Sure enough, you could see workers through the metal grate of the walkway kneading dough, their hands dusted with flour. On another station, colorful vegetables were being chopped and washed at a speed you had only seen on the Food Network.

“Are you completely self-sustainable?” you asked.

The bastard was still walking backwards, clearly wanting a clear view of your awe. “I ain’t telling you shit until you decide to make your life a hell of a lot cooler than it is now,” Negan declared with a roguish smile. Finally, he turned around. “Now, prepare yourself. This is just…it’s awesome.”

He had stopped in front of a door and began to rummage for keys. “Big boss man gets to lock up his shit,” he explained. Hopefully Dwight had cleared the room of the girls as he asked. Negan had a feeling that this wouldn’t work if you found out he ran a harem. “Ladies first.”

You entered the room and balked. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The Sanctuary was by far the most advanced settlement you had seen, bar none – but walking into this room was like stepping into a time machine and being transported into a place where there were no walkers…

Or taste.

The room was decorated in black and gold. It was plush and clean, but immensely tacky and over the top. You slowly turned in a circle, taking in your surroundings, only to find something staring back. You jumped and shamefully let out a small gasp of surprise. Closing your eyes in irritancy, you took a deep breath to slow down your heartbeat. When your eyelids fluttered open, you were staring into the fake glass orbs of a mounted Oryx head. You immediately stepped back, disgusted.

 “This place is the tits, isn’t it?”

Your face immediately soured and you allowed yourself to go cross eyed. “It’s not exactly me, but it’s definitely better than where I’ve had to sleep.”  When you were met with silence, you turned around to find Negan lounging on one of the couches, one arm slung over the back and watching you, tickled pink.

“You absolutely hate it!” he gushed, a drink in hand.

Your eyes darted around the room and your forehead creased. “It just looks cheap.” You settled down next to him, crossing one leg over the other.

Negan eyed you, searching your face as he worked his lower lip between his teeth. “You are one stone cold bitch. You know that?” Out of thin air he produced another tumbler of the Pasion Azteca he had gotten from you. “But don’t get me wrong, it’s fucking _awesome_.” He slipped the glass into your hand. “Now, I’ve talked to a lot of people, and _every single_ one of them gargles my balls.” He leaned back and opened his arms. “It’s gotten to the point where I don’t get a single honest opinion. But then _you_ come in.” He sat up straight and wiggled his shoulders. “You come in and not only have I been dancing like some goddamn monkey in an effort to get you to stay, but you tell me my place looks like shit!” Negan took a sip of his tequila. “It’s seriously awesome.” His breath fogged the glass.

You traced the rim of the glass with your finger. “Negan, you are clearly not the kind of person who begs. For anything. What is the angle?”

“And she is damn smart!” He clinked his glass with yours before throwing it back in a single gulp. “Not only have you given me something worth more than anyone who has ever worked for me…you aren’t afraid of me, which means you aren’t afraid of anything.”

“You just complimented me by complimenting yourself.”

“Isn’t it great?”

You let out a soft laugh and turned away, shaking your head. “What are we doing up here?”

Negan leaned back, pretending to glower. “Am I not allowed to enjoy a drink with my new bestest friend?”

“ _Why_?”

With a wolfish grin, Negan tossed the small bag of heroin you dropped onto the coffee table. “Every single person I’ve brought up here is either someone I want to work with, or want to screw. You, you are a first because I want to do both. But I don’t mix business with pleasure. I also respect you.” He rested an ankle on his knee. “I’m guessing you don’t just deal that.” A small smile stretched across his face when he noticed your breath hitch. “Oh, I might have been looking at your tits and ass 99% of the time we’ve been talking, but don’t think I’m stupid.” Negan reached forward and rolled up your sleeve, revealing old track mark scars.

“Screw you.” You slapped his hand away and wrenched your sleeve back down.

Negan held his hands up. “I’m not here to judge! Like I said, I think you’re a grade A badass. I just see a lucrative product and I want to get some side action.” Suddenly, Negan’s face had sobered and his tone evened. “Your product can be multiplied a hundred fold if you work with me. I have the numbers, the resources, the muscle, and the customers – and I know one of my places has those flowers that makes the opium. It’s basically a colony of dirty hippies. Their dicks get hard just thinking about gardening and that kind of shit.”

“And what do I get?”

“Well, besides the ongoing presence of yours truly, you get to stay here and experience all of the benefits without the blind Negan worship.”

You sat bolt upright. “What?” The disturbing, cult following of Negan was the one thing that had been keeping you from joining the Saviors, and now that it was off the table…

“I only work with you,” you said firmly. “I don’t want to deal with Simon or any other Savior. This deal is between you and I. They listen to us.”

“Don’t you dare fall in love with me.”  

With a dismissive huff, you finished your drink.

Negan stood up and turned, his belt buckle only an inch from your nose. He reached down and took your empty glass. “The world might look dead with those corpses staggering around, but this shit? We just ushered in the best years of our lives.” He poured another three million dollar shot into your glass. “To the golden years!”

You silently took the shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like his belt buckles.


	5. Don't Drink the Kool Aid

There were things in life that were sure to make people cry – the death of a loved one, physical pain, even a sad book could make one turn into a sniveling mess. However, most people didn’t break down just because they had hot water, but that’s what you were doing. 

You stood in the shower with your forehead against the wall, letting the hot water beat against your back. You were only allocated ten minutes of hot water - for there were a lot of people living in the Sanctuary who wanted to start their day with a glorious, steaming hot shower. You had already made peace with the idea that you would never feel hot water again. So when you stepped into your bathtub, you had been overwhelmed.

Not only did you have hot water, but clean clothes. You stepped into them languidly, appreciating every inch of the soft fabric on your skin. The high class life didn’t stop there.  As you walked into your room, you were greeted by your bed, a bookshelf you filled immediately with novels you snatched from the conversary, a TV, movies, a lamp, and even a cushy chair.

You were loath to admit it, but it really was…“awesome.”

It had been a week since you had your meeting with Negan and you were starting to wonder if he’d forgotten about you. It was clear that everyone in the Sanctuary had to earn their keep, and you had been sitting on your ass like it was your job. You weren’t complaining, but you had a conscious and didn’t like the idea of living off of other people’s charity. Plus, some were starting to look at you funny, and the last thing you wanted to do was make enemies in a place like this. What had Charlie Hustle said?

“Keep your head down. Do as they…as _he_ says. Be humble.”

Obviously the most important thing was Negan’s opinion of you, and by the grace of God you had somehow gotten on his good side. However, this was subject to change at the drop of a hat if you didn’t figure out what was going on. Luckily, you were ripped from your worries by three loud knocks.

“Rise and shine, princess!” a familiar voice boomed. “I sure as shit hope you’re dressed because I’m about to barge right in! Actually, it’d be pretty great if you weren’t dressed. So feel free to take your time, or even take your clothes off-”

You ripped the door open. Negan was casually leaning against the doorframe, one arm above his head and Lucille firmly in his grasp, hovering just above the door. The corners of his mouth were turned upwards in his signature grin. His posture allowed you to notice the gun he tucked in the front of his pants.

“See, it’s funny because when people ask me if there’s a gun in my pants or if I’m just happy to see them, I can say it’s both,” he explained when he noticed your wandering eyes.

“But is it worth it?” Admittedly, it was funny, but shooting one’s nuts off seemed like a pretty big sacrifice for the sake of a joke. You only got a playful glint of the eye for an answer.

“Now I have a surprise for _you!_ ” You stepped back as Lucille almost kissed you on the lips. Negan jabbed his head over his shoulder. “Walk this way.” Without further explanation, he spun on his heel and sauntered down the hallway. Hurrying to get your shoes on, you stumbled after him.

As you walked down the hallway, every person you passed took a knee.

Negan glanced at you through the corner of his eye. “It’s pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

Your eyebrows rose. “What? The worshipping?” You sidestepped a woman on the floor. “I feel like I’m in Jonestown.”

“See, I take offense to that. These people are here because they want to be.” As you both began to make your way down the stairs, Negan ripped a young man to his feet. “Tommy right?” When the kid nodded, Negan continued. “Well, Tommy, am I forcing you be here?”

“Of course not, sir!”

Negan looked to you. “Do you want to be here?”

“Nowhere else!”

“And _what_ is your name?”

“Negan. My name is Negan.”

Satisfied, Negan released him. As Tommy scampered down the stairs, Negan let out a content sigh. He pointed Lucille after the boy. “You see? I’m not asking anyone to drink poisoned Kool Aid and I do not walk around in aviator sunglasses and a bad haircut.” He started back down the stairs. “I also don’t pretend that God has a hard on for me and whispers into my ear.”

“So you’re a good person?” You made it to the ground floor.

“Are you?” When you didn’t answer, Negan yanked you to his side and gave you a friendly squeeze. “No one is good anymore.”

A chorus of wheezes and moans greeted you as you stepped into the warm morning. Your eyes wandered over the yard, observing the new prisoners trying to navigate their way through the maze of walkers. The monsters screeched and retched as they jerked forward, trying to take a bite out of the new meat’s flesh.

The walkers weren’t the only ones occupying the yard. A large group of raiders were standing, armed and ready to go with the trucks running idle. Simon towered over the rest of the men and women with his hands on his hips and a sadistic smile on his face. Your whole body stiffened – something told you not to trust this man. Negan was brutal, manipulative, violent, and the true dangerous king of the jungle, but he did his dealings to your face. On the other hand, Simon seemed like the type of man who thrived behind your back.

Negan must have sensed your hostility, because he held up a hand, blocking you from taking another step. “I know you hate his guts,” he explained without turning around, “and I get that. He’s a total asshole, but that’s what makes Simon so good at his job. He’s my number two for a reason, and if you want this to work, you two need to kiss and make up.” Negan turned his nose up at Simon. “And _you_ need to find your balls and not feel emasculated because my attention’s divided and you’re not the teacher’s pet.”

Simon’s lips stretched into a sinister grin. “Well, I’m terribly sorry miss.”

You took his hand and gave it a firm shake, not bothering to answer. The handshake was difficult enough.

Negan let out a long whistle. “That was cold.” He tapped Lucille against the heel of his boot as he flung a friendly arm around your shoulders, something you were becoming accustomed to. He looked at you. “Are you ready to see your surprise?” Before you could answer, Negan leaned backwards. “Dwight!” he shouted. “Get your ass over here!” His head lolled towards you. “You’re going to love this shit.”

You craned your neck, genuinely curious about what this lunatic could be so excited about. A small “Oh!” fell from your lips as Dwight emerged from the crowd.

Dwight was a thin man with long, limp hair that was the color of straw. He walked with an air of hesitancy. Negan was wrong. Not everyone wanted to be here.

But that wasn’t what had shocked you. The left side of Dwight’s face was completely deformed by a massive burn scar. Your hand immediately shot to your ear, where you felt the rough scar tissue of your own burns.

Negan leaned in, clapping his hands on both of your shoulders. “Ya’ll in love yet?” His smile couldn’t get any bigger. Neither you nor Dwight looked the tiniest bit amused, but you decided to introduce yourself.

“You can call me D, if you prefer,” Dwight answered.

“It’s nice to meet you, D.”

Negan grabbed Dwight by the biceps and gave him a good shake. “Dwight-y here is one of my number one guys! He’s not exactly the strongest, but this right here.” He poked Dwight’s temple. “Guy’s sharp. Thought we could use him today on our little business trip.”

You knew that you were going to start a drug distribution network, but you hadn’t anticipated it happening so soon. Perhaps you were ignorant to think anything to do with Negan wouldn’t spiral out of control, but for now, you weren’t going to question it.

~*~

You stared up at the wooden gate. It was intimidating as it towered over you, each log stretching into the sky and ending in a gruesome point.

“They’re getting lazy.” Simon’s eye narrowed. “They should be at the door and ready to let us in.” There was a murmur of agreement.

Negan only smiled lazily. “Calm down, Simon. I’m sure they’re just diddling goats or something.” He turned to you. “Just wait until you see them. There’s this one guy, real John Lennon, ‘give peace a chance’ kind of dude. Like Christ on the cross.”

You adjusted the rifle Dwight had given you, allowing it to hang from your shoulder. “You’ve never stricken me as someone who idolizes people.”

“No, I mean the guy fucking _looks_ like Jesus!” Negan’s eyes flicked from the gate to you. “Did you ever watch Extreme Makeover: Home Edition?”

You raised an eyebrow, as confused by the man as ever. “Yes?”

Satisfied with your answer, Negan leaned back. “Good morning, Hilltop family!” he shouted before he hit Lucille against the gate. “I know you’re in there, Gregory! Get that old, wrinkly ass out here and wish me a proper good morning!” The Saviors had begun to swarm the gate as he spoke, ready to break it down if the Hilltop refused to let you in. “Will you do me a favor and shoot anyone who tries to throw something pointy at me?” he asked you out of the corner of his mouth. “I’m into a lot of things, but I’m not too keen on getting a spear jammed up my ass.”

“You got it, boss man.” Your jaw set as you aimed the barrel of your gun at the barracks. For the first time in days, you finally felt like your old self. You finally felt in control, and you couldn’t help but let your good mood shine through.

“You better quit talking like that.” Negan pointed Lucille at you. Before you could respond, the gate groaned open. “Well, it’s about damn time!”

An older man stepped outside, holding his hand up against the morning sun. The hair that he had left on his head and beard were greying with age. He adverted his blue eyes as he approached Negan, and even though he was dressed smartly in a tweed suit, he moved timidly. The man was a coward.

“N-Negan.” The man looked at Simon. “And Simon. I wasn’t expecting you today…” his voice faded.

Negan was watching the older man like one would watch a dancing monkey as he rested both hands on top of Lucille. “Jesus, Gregory. It sounds like you’re unhappy to see me!”

Gregory went bug-eyed and immediately held up both hands. “No! You’re- all of you are always welcome at the Hilltop!”

Negan turned to Simon, raising an inquisitive brow. “You know what, Simon? I think he might be lying to us.”

Simon took a step forward and tilted his head. His eyes bore into Gregory’s as his signature smirk settled on his face. “You might be right.”

“I swear to God, I’m telling the truth!” Gregory looked over his shoulder to the settlement. “Please, come in! We have some tomatoes that have just sprouted. We were going to keep them because we’re running a little low on food, but if you want-”

Negan placed a hand over his heart. “Gregory, I knew you were our man! I love me some fried green tomatoes.” He turned to all of you and waved you in.

You were about to follow the crowd when he caught your eye. Tilting his head to motion you over, you pushed through your fellow saviors.

“So, Gregory – as much as I love to see you and take all of your shit, we have a new business plan that will make you just shit your pants!”

Gregory looked to you, clearly confused. “Who is she?”

“Why, she’s your boss you old fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sponsored by Sears.


	6. People, Let Me Tell You Bout My Best Friend

The Austrian psychologist Alfred Adler found that if a person was weak or incompetent, he or she would try to disguise their weakness by over achieving. Usually this weakness was present from birth and was with the person throughout their life, causing them to feel powerless and inferior.

It was clear to you that Gregory, the leader of the Hilltop colony was one of these people. As his people lived in FEMA trailers, he sat behind a giant desk, staring at you in a large office in an even larger historic plantation mansion. Until now you thought the Sanctuary had been the closest thing to civilization, but the mansion had been completely untouched by the outside world. Its extravagance was almost criminal and it made your skin crawl.

Gregory couldn’t get comfortable in his desk chair. He was constantly shifting and twitching. He twisted his fingers as he looked at his desk top, wetting his dry lips with his tongue.

“I think it would be best if she and I would just meet,” he finally murmured. “Alone. I mean, if she’s my boss.”

That was something you had a problem with. When Gregory wasn’t staring at his hands, he had been staring at you. You didn’t like it and the last thing you wanted was to be in a room alone with him. Before you could speak your grievances, Negan spoke up.

“Gregory, I would let you suck me off before that happened.” Negan was sitting in the chair next to you, balancing on two legs as he rested his muddy boots on Gregory’s desk. “Guess why.” When the old man could only stammer, Negan finished the sentence for him. “Because you’re a perverted old man, which is the worst kind of pervert.” He turned to you, looking for confirmation.

“I would say that priests have garnered quite a reputation for themselves over the last few years.”

Negan wagged a finger. “Count your lucky stars you’re not a priest, Gregory. I just don’t know _how_ we could get along if you were!”

Doing your best not to smile, you scooted your chair forward. You had to be the level-headed one here. “Gregory, you need to understand, I have survived through the drug, and to the lesser extent alcohol, trade since the walkers came. People want heroin more than they want food and water. It’s all about self-medication and the current instability of our psychology. Everyone is at the end of their rope. I can’t tell you how many of those corpses I’ve walked by that were hanging from trees by their necks.” You pointed to Negan, who was watching you intently. “He has the power to move the stuff in truckloads.”

“Then he has the power to grow the opium.”

“He also has better things to do and you already have the poppies as well as the land.” You splayed your fingers on the desk. “This isn’t up for debate. I’m not asking you.” When Gregory turned to Negan, you snapped your fingers. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

Gregory looked at his lap. “Fine,” he said quietly.

“Well, excuse me and my raging hard on, but I think we’ve made ourselves one hell of a deal!” Negan gave Gregory’s desk a celebratory whack with Lucille, making you wince as chips of wood flew through the air.

While Negan was happy, there were still a few things that needed to be ironed out. “I need to see where they’re going to be planted and we have to go over how much we’re going to grow. We need time charts, scales-”

“But…we don’t have any of that-” Gregory was beginning to panic.

“Then get it.” Your voice was stern. “We have a laundry list of chemicals to get, but I’ll get those. I don’t trust anyone else to do it.”

“I take offense to that.”

You looked at Negan. “You take offense to everything. There’s a chemical plant about an hour north of here. It should have everything we need. I’ll go in and get our supplies. I expect everything in order by the time I get back.”

After a moment of silence, Gregory spoke. “And if it’s not?”

“Come one, Gregory. I think you know the answer to that.” Negan ran a gloved hand up and down the handle of Lucille.

Gregory swallowed. “I’ll get Jesus. He’s the most familiar with agriculture.” You watched Gregory leave. He slipped out of the door like a man beaten.

“What the diddlyfuck did you do before all of this?” Negan had relocated to Gregory’s chair and was currently rummaging through his drawers before he triumphantly slammed a bottle of glue on the desk.

“It doesn’t matter. What are you doing?” You leaned forward, wanting to take a peak.

Negan threw a bundle of supplies onto the floor and looked up. He looked positively fiendish. “I am going to glue the douchebag’s shit to the bottom of his drawer. The guy has no guts and it drives me through the roof. I could dip my balls in ink, put them in his mouth, and he would thank me, which is awesome – but it still pisses me off because it is an insult to masculine nature.”

You stood up and walked around the desk. “He’s a coward and he’s weak. I don’t know how he came to lead an entire settlement.” You reached for the glue and knelt down. Unscrewing the cap, you dumped the entire bottle onto the base of the drawer.

As you worked, your boss watched you – his eyes roaming from head to toe as he sized you up. He wore a smirk, entertained by your surprising enthusiasm. He wordlessly handed you a book of matches, which you dutifully stuck into the lake of glue. Soon everything was back in the drawer, settling into place. You went back to your seat as Negan took Gregory’s chair. Just as he sat his shoes on the desk, the door opened.

Gregory walked in with his head bowed. In tow was a man who was aptly nicknamed – he looked exactly like Jesus. Although his hair was long, it was well kept, unlike Dwight’s. There was a sense of calm that radiated from him and his crystalline eyes radiated intelligence. He was the antithesis of Gregory and why he was not the one in charge baffled you, and you got this all from a glance.

“I hear that you want to cultivate poppies?”

You glanced behind your shoulder at Negan, who shrugged with an over exaggerated pout. “We’re going to harvest their opium,” you explained.

Jesus nodded his head. “I’ll bring you outside and show you the fields, if you’d like.”

“That would be great.” You looked back at Negan, who held out his hands.

“I think I’m going to stay with my buddy, Gregory.” He clearly wanted to see the Hilltop’s leader fall victim to your prank, so you followed Jesus out without protest. As you descended the staircase, Jesus began to speak.

“I didn’t want to say it in front of Negan, but this is going to be incredibly hard. There’s a reason Columbia, Mexico, and Afghanistan are the heroin capitals. They’re dry and arid countries, and we’re far from that.” Jesus opened the front door and you stepped outside. You had to come to a halt as a young boy herded a group of chickens across the lawn.

“It doesn’t have to be top quality stuff. The world’s ended, Jesus. No one has any expectations. They just want to get high.” A light breeze picked up as you walked, making the crops rustle. You stepped between a plot of corn and cabbages. You noticed Jesus watch as the Saviors took their share of the produce. You could see that he was biting his tongue. Quickly, you changed the subject. “Why do you follow Gregory?”

This seemed to snap Jesus out of his trance. “Well, why do you follow Negan? He is rash and violent. The Saviors are nothing more than a totalitarian society that uses terrorism to get what they want.” Jesus looked to you. “Do you know that he abuses woman?”

This startled you. “What?”

He nodded gravely. “He has a multiple wives. He likes to pretend that he gives them a choice to be there, but he chooses women who’ve had terrible lives. They’re desperate to get away, so they are ‘willing’ to stay with him. If that doesn’t work, he threatens their loved ones.”

By now you had stopped walking. You rubbed your face vigorously, breathing deeply as you tried to center yourself. What Jesus had just divulged, if true, was beyond disturbing and it made your stomach turn.

“I had hot water for the first time this week.” You finally explained. “I have shelter and food. For the first time in years, I feel safe. He’s been taking care of me, and until Negan does something that directly affronts me…” your voice faded and you looked away, unable to look Jesus in the eye.

He took a step forward. “So you’re willing to live in willful ignorance to such cruelty so long as it doesn’t affect you?” When you didn’t answer, Jesus sighed. “It’s not my place to judge. Maybe one day you’ll see. The empty plots are this way.”

Not only did he look like Jesus, but he was able to give you that good old Christian guilt.

~*~

You sat in your room, curled up in your cushy chair with a book in your lap. There was rancorous laughter coming from downstairs. It was dinner time, but the last thing you wanted was human contact. Since the Hill Top, you had holed yourself away.

Jesus had revealed that Negan did more than crush skulls. Apparently, he kept a harem of unwilling women hostage through threats and promises of a better life. Not only was this an attack on your core values, but a huge problem seeing that the man was the only person you were friendly with in the Sanctuary.

That was the topic you had been agonizing over since you had gotten home. The conclusion was surprising and bizarre, seeing that he was a borderline lunatic and most people did everything in their power to fly under his radar. Negan was your business partner and your leader, and you had to trust and respect him if this could continue – and with this new information, you didn’t know if that would be possible.

Three loud knocks made the book jump from your hands. “Who is it?”

“You just missed Hazel throw up a Twinkie into Kevin’s lap. It was literally the greatest thing that has ever happened.”

You touched your fingertips to your forehead. “I was actually about to go to bed.”

“I’m actually about to bust down this door.”

With a sigh strong enough to put wind in a sailboat’s sails, you conceded. “Come in.” You continued to read as your door slowly swung open and even ignored the approaching footsteps. It wasn’t until your foot was lightly sideswiped that you were forced to acknowledge the fact that you were not alone. “Listen, I’m really-” You stopped when a bottle of hemorrhoid cream was shoved in your face.

“For the asshole’s asshole.”

You slowly took the cream from Negan’s hand. It was covered in dried glue, but you could still read the label. You turned it over with your fingers. Looking up, you laughed. “You found this?”

Negan leaned on Lucille, crossing one ankle over the other. “That and some well-loved Playboys. You really should have paid more attention to what you were gluing. You really missed out.” He gave you a lop-sided grin. “How was Jesus Christ superstar?”

You nodded. “He was good.” 

“What did he say about the opium?”

“He knows that ‘we can’t’ isn’t an answer.”

“If old Gregory pulls through, I have other places to expand. If you think the Hilltop is weird…” Negan bulged his eyes.

You put your book aside and stood up. “I drew these up today.” You picked up a small pile of papers and handed them to him.

Negan flipped through them, his eyes scanning over your scrawl. He held up your notes and let out an amused huff. “You just wrote down all this and you’re going to get it by yourself?” He pulled out a paper and studied it for a second time, squinting his eyes. “I mean, what the shit is a ‘press device’?”

“It’s anything that can press the water-insoluble opium residues.”

Negan nodded slowly. “Well, you’re going to have to look for that. I call the large aluminum pot.” He folded the paper and slipped it into his back pocket.

“I need that!”

Swinging Lucille over his shoulder, Negan made his way to the door. “And you’ll get it when we get to the plant.” He spun around and raised his eyebrows.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. For a moment, you stared up at him. Finally, you asked, “Why are you here?”

He leaned down and rested his free hand on his knee. Squinting his eyes, he answered, “To check out that badass scar again.” As he observed your ear, he hummed. “That is so cool.” Without pressing you further or making fun, Negan left with the laundry list of materials needed for heroin that he invited himself to help you with.

Grabbing the hemorrhoid cream, you set it on your bookshelf. He really was your friend.

And you were okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buds. <3
> 
> Like everything I write, this is a slow burn and all early tension is due to Negan's natural womanizing ways. I'm happy that this is the longest one so far.


	7. Compromise

It was odd how peaceful the world looked from above, where you couldn’t see the decimation and the breeze didn’t carry the stench of blood and rotting flesh. You couldn’t even hear the walkers’ hallowed wheezes. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that things were normal.

Today you were assigned security - so you carefully stalked the roof of the Sanctuary, keeping your eyes peeled for any threats. Your sniper rifle sat comfortably across your back and your binoculars were held securely in your hands. It felt good to be out doing something for a change.

“Hey, you okay?”

You put your binoculars down. “I’m just thinking about before.”

“Man, I hear that!” Fat Joey laughed. He reached into his pocket and brought out a packet of peanut butter M&M’s. “Do you want some?”

You smiled. “Are you kidding?” You held out your hand and Joey dropped a pile of candy into your palm. The only good thing about the apocalypse was how appreciative it made you of the little things. Never would you have thought the taste of cheap chocolate candy would bring you so much joy. “This is great. Thank you, Joey.”

You had only known Fat Joey for a few hours and you were already getting along. He was kind, but being kind didn’t get you very far with the Saviors, nor did being overweight. He was often made fun of and the butt of many jokes, but he took it in stride. You wanted to ask him why he stayed, but your conversation with Jesus rang in your ears.

You were the last person to question the membership of others while you were chummy with your ruthless leader.

“Do you think that would be okay?”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked yourself back to reality. “I’m sorry?”

Joey shuffled his feet. “I was wondering if you could maybe …if you can,” Joey swallowed, nervous at the thought of what he was about to ask you. “Can you ask Negan to stop making fun of me?”

A humorless laugh bursted from your chest and Joey’s face immediately fell. “Oh, god. Joey, nobody tells Negan what to do.” You put a hand over your heart. “And I have no idea why you’re even asking me. I hardly know the man and I’ve only been here for, what…two weeks?” As you spoke, you noticed a walker stagger its way to the gate. You brought your rifle from your back and aimed it at the monster’s head. Looking through the eye scope, you pulled the trigger and the walker collapsed.

Several pebbles rolled across the concrete as Joey sheepishly swiped his foot across the ground. “I know. It’s just that word’s been getting around that you’re both working together and I just figured…”

Your comrade’s words concerned you. Your muscles tensed as you lowered your weapon, slipping it back into its sling. Negan hadn’t told anyone about your little business venture, and having someone close with loose lips was a very dangerous thing. Negan was not going to be happy when he found out; someone was going to pay in blood.

You did your best to keep your voice calm. “Joey, do you remember who told you this and does anyone else know? Think really hard.”

He must have sensed the seriousness of the situation, because Joey had gone as white as milk. “Um, yeah, it was a worker. Guy’s named Aaron. I guess he overheard you talking.”

“He shouldn’t have even been up there, especially if he was a worker. Fuck. _Fuck!_ ” You put a hand to your forehead. “Don’t say another word.  You know better than I what happens when you cross Negan. This goes no further than us.” It wasn’t until you were halfway to the exit that Joey found his voice.

“You’re not going to tell him, are you? I’ve already been docked 15 points.”

“If I don’t, I guarantee that you will be dead before sundown.” If Negan was in a good mood, it was possible that he would let at least one of the men off the hook. Honesty _was_ the best policy and hopefully the rumor hadn’t spread.

~*~

Charlie Hustle’s knife tapped against your thigh as you flew down the stairs. Although Simon had been ready to slit your throat with the blade, Negan saw no reason to keep the weapon of the late Savior from you. In fact, he seemed impressed by the way you helped the man, if not appreciative. 

What had he called it? “Kicking the bucket while balls to the walls drunk?”

As soon as your boots hit the floor you realized that you had no idea where your fearless leader had swooped off to. It was strange – a man like Negan commanded a lightning storm of energy and his mere presence literally brought people to their knees. The Sanctuary revolved around him and even his footsteps demanded attention, yet he still managed to disappear.

Now that you were working together, you had to keep a tight schedule. It was imperative to have each other’s contact information. Before you would have been able to contact your partner at any hour of the day, but now you were ashamed to say that you were a tad intimidated by your co-worker.

But only a tad.

Navigating the Sanctuary’s many hallways was a chore, but it was something you had made sure to master quickly. On the third floor were the jail cells, where the Saviors would slowly but surely break their prisoner’s spirits and make them take the knee. You made a b-line to the holding cells, not bothering to give anyone you passed a second glance.

Although you didn’t know where Negan was, you knew that Dwight might be with the prisoners. Even though he didn’t want to be in the Sanctuary, your burned brother played the part of a Savior well. He was cruel and taunted the starved and quivering men and women, eventually demeaning them into submission.

It only took a minute before Jim Bianco & Petra Haden began to assault your ears. The upbeat, jumpy tune had you grinding your teeth before you were even two steps down the hallway.

“You know music torture was banned by the United Nations _and_ the European Court of Human Rights?” you asked. The bite to your voice was enough to make Dwight close his eyes, but nothing more.

“Human rights died when the rest of the world did. Get back to your post.” He didn’t bother to ask how you were so familiar with human rights.

Rather than answer, you knelt down and turned off the boom box that sat at Dwight’s feet. “I don’t answer to you, Dwight. You and I both know that. Now where’s Negan? I need to talk to him.”

Dwight didn’t know what you were doing with Negan, but he and the other higher ups had been made aware that you were working close with the boss and were to be treated as a peer. As expected, many weren’t happy with your automatic rise in the ranks. It had taken most of them years to earn their place and for you to be promoted to a high, albeit unauthoritative, position was very frustrating.

While there was bad blood between you and some of the Saviors, Dwight had a soft spot for you, and you for him. Neither of you had spoken about your scars, nor had you planned to - but there was an unstated comradery between you. There was a pain you were both forced to share every day, and that experience bonded people.

“He’s in a meeting with the rest of the council. We’re having trouble with one of our networks and we’re deciding on the best course of action. It’s this way.” You decided not to ask why he wasn’t in the meeting,

You were surprised. “So Negan’s solution to everything isn’t violence?” You trotted after Dwight.

Dwight snorted. “It’s definitely his favorite, but he’s not an idiot. He knows it’s not always the most effective way to get what he wants.” Although he kept his eyes trained forward, he couldn’t completely maintain his stony exterior. His left hand kept clenching and unclenching into a fist as he talked. “He toys with you, finds out what’s important to you and takes it.” He shrugged. “Or kills it. He psychologically breaks you down until you wish he had attacked you.”

_Show me the way to go home_

_I’m tired and I wanna go to bed_

What had Hooper said when he was about to go into the water with the shark in _Jaws_?

_“I got no spit.”_

Your mouth had gone completely dry. Somehow Negan became more of a monster with every second you stayed in the Sanctuary. But you found yourself stubbornly fighting against such accusations – this was the guy who glued junk to the bottom of a desk drawer and almost busted your door down in the middle of the night to give you a tube of hemorrhoid cream that he stole for shits and giggles.

Not to mention he was going out of his way to pick up supplies with you without being asked.

If you wanted to successfully pull off your heroin operation, you would need to compartmentalize your partner’s demons and focus on the positive aspects of your professional relationship, but you were dancing with the devil on thin ice. There was only so much debauchery you could put up with before you put your foot down.  

Dwight rapped on a steal door with his knuckles, jolting you out of your thoughts.

“This better be important!” Negan’s voice was loud enough to rattle your bones. Dwight stepped aside and let you step into the room.

Inside was a large conference table. Its wood was stained with watermarks from late night drinks and worn with age. Gathered around were the three other council members – Simon, Regina, and Gavin. The tension in the air was palpable and the glares Simon and Regina sent you could make a weaker man crumble. Luckily, you were neither weak nor a man.

“Well, holy shit! I was just talking about you!” Negan sat at the head of the table in front of a massive window. Sunlight beamed through the grimy glass, giving him a dramatic silhouette. You didn’t have to question whether it was intentional. Negan did everything he could to deitize himself and making himself light up like a god was not beneath him.

Your gaze flitted over to Simon, whose brow knitted together. He was clearly brooding over something. What had they been saying about you?

When you didn’t respond, Negan huffed and opened his hands. “Well, did you interrupt us for a reason or did you just want to be a royal pain in my ass?”

Crossing your arms, you leaned against the doorframe. “With all due respect, five’s a crowd.”

Regina’s features twisted into a vicious scowl. She jerked forward. “That’s no way to talk to your superior!”

Negan waved her away and tilted his chin up. “Hey, we’re all friends here! Let’s all unclench and take a breath. We’re done here anyway.”

The chairs screeched as everyone stood up. You scoffed as Simon’s shoulder clipped yours while he slipped out of the room.

Gavin looked at you sympathetically. “Simon’s like this with everyone at first,” he explained quietly as he stuck out his hand. You grasped it firmly and gave it a good shake. “As for Regina, she is just incredibly loyal and takes this all very seriously.”

“What about you?”

“I’m as level-headed as this place let’s you. Welcome to the Saviors.” Gavin clapped you on the arm before he followed Simon out.

You decided that you liked Gavin.

“So am I just going to just sit here like an asshole or what?”

After your eyes rolled to the ceiling, you quickly strode across the room. You lowered yourself into the seat closest to Negan and placed your hands on your thighs. A man’s life depended on this conversation and you needed to choose your words carefully.

 A small, crooked smile played on Negan’s lips. He watched you through narrowed eyes, enjoying you squirm. Placing his hands on the table, he laced his fingers together and leaned forward.

“Will you calm the hell down? You look like you’re about to piss yourself and it’s really bumming me out. You’re supposed to be as tough as nails.” He lightly punched you on the arm. “Cold stone bitch, remember?”

You met his gaze with tired eyes. “One of the workers, Aaron, knows about the heroin.”

The playful air evaporated as Negan’s face hardened. His leather glove rasped as he clenched his fist. “Excuse me?”

You held out a placating hand.  “Negan, it was an accident.” But your leader wasn’t hearing it.

“That little shit stain’s gonna have to eat through a straw!” Negan pushed himself away from the table and was about to jump to his feet, but you grabbed him by the wrist. You were gambling with your life, but it was the only thing you could do. Your leader’s neck was flushed and his eyes were wild when he turned to you.

“As your partner, I ask you to please hear me out. Whatever you decide to do after I speak, I will respect.” You released your hold on his wrist and sat back.

Negan cocked an eyebrow. “You just put your hands on me. You have some serious balls.” He slammed Lucille on the table. “How do you think I should handle this?”

“Take away points.”

“Not good enough.”

You ran a hand through your hair. “Take away his privileges too. Make him eat slop. Fuck, throw him in jail. Killing him doesn’t fit the crime. It’s not justice.”

“It’s just me ‘beating off,’ right?” Negan asked with a sly smile.

“Stop it.”

Negan licked his lips. “There is a third way.” He stood up and beckoned you to follow. “Come on. It’s a bit of a group event.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a bit. I'm epileptic and I haven't been feeling the greatest the last few days.
> 
> Thank you for the kind comments. I'm so hesitant about this story and wouldn't have the confidence to write more than one chapter if I didn't know people were enjoying it.


	8. It's Too Late to Be Grateful

The Sanctuary was buzzing with nervous conversation. You watched as men and women shifted from foot to foot and spoke in whispers. Children looked up at their parents, anxious and scared as they waited for something that you didn’t understand.

You stood in the main hall in the Sanctuary, surrounded by hundreds of Saviors. Every inch of the room was stuffed with people, all the way up to the rafters. You swallowed, unable to shake the feeling of hundreds of eyes gazing at you.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Negan assured, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “They’ll forget all about you in a minute, Old Aaron here is our star!” Aaron sat, tied to a chair. He was trembling like a leaf and his chest was heaving as his eyes stared blankly into the roaring fireplace.

Negan let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Ya’ll know this really breaks my heart, don’t you?” he asked the crowd, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Why do you keep breaking my heart?” He looked to Aaron. “Aaron thought it was okay to stick his nose somewhere it didn’t belong. He invaded my privacy and that is seriously fucked up!” Negan smiled. “But I’m a reasonable man. I was actually gonna kill him! But this little lady convinced me otherwise.” Negan briefly rested his cheek on the top of your head. “See, her privacy was invaded as well. We’re running a new operation, and it really pisses me off that this is the way I have to announce it!”

A flicker of movement made you turn. Dwight had knelt down in front of the fireplace. The light lit up his face as he took something from the flames.

As the hot embers danced, your heart began to palpitate. You could feel it ram against your chest as you stared into the roaring fire. Even though you were several paces away, you could still feel the heat billowing against your skin. Despite the high temperature, a wave of goose bumps appeared on your arm.

When Dwight turned, your stomach dropped.

He held an iron that was still burning hot from its time in the fire. You frantically looked to Aaron, who had started to cry.

Before you could save the man, Negan grabbed you by the forearm. “You’re the one who wanted this.”

You could only watch in silence as Negan wordlessly slipped his hand into a heavy glove.

“I want you to know that I hate this more than all of you,” Negan declared before pressing the iron against Aaron’s cheek.

The smell was what hit you first. As Aaron’s flesh cooked against the molten steel, the smell of fried pork wafted through the air. Next came the sound – Aaron’s skin crackled and popped like bacon grease in a frying pan. Finally, there was the screaming.

You didn’t see the strings of fatty tissue that clung to the iron when it was finally pulled away or the glistening blisters because you had buried your face in Dwight’s shoulder.

“It’s done,” Dwight assured, placing a hesitant hand on your back, but it wasn’t enough. Without another thought, you took off.

You pushed through the crowd, throwing men, women, and children out of your way with equal ferocity. Their protests fell on deaf ears as you charged up the stairs and finally reached the privacy of your own room. Slamming the door shut, you ran to the toilet and threw up.

As you crawled away from the toilet, your bathroom melted away. You were suddenly surrounded by an unfathomable heat. Above you wood burst and ripped from the high temperature, forcing you to curl into a tighter ball. But you knew you were being a coward. You had to _get up._ You were running out of time.

_Get up._

With a gasp your eyes shot open. You were back in your bathroom, your cheek pressed flat against the cool tile. Your skin was dewy with sweat and you staggered as you got to your feet, but you didn’t give a damn.

Stumbling into your room, you grabbed your backpack. You couldn’t remember if Negan had given it back…

When you pulled out the small bag of heroin, it felt like the world had become a little brighter.

~*~

Negan threw Lucille over his shoulder as he watched you disappear up the stairs. “Well, that was weird.” The crowd had already begun to disperse, all taking care to avert their eyes. Negan looked to Dwight and sent him a cheeky grin. “So have you porked her yet?”

Dwight simply turned and began to untie Aaron. The man had somehow managed to maintain consciousness, but his eyes were blank and clouded.

“Well, looks like I have to do this all by myself!” Negan barked. “As usual.” With a hand in his pocket, he began his leisurely stroll up to your room.

It never took him long to get anywhere in the Sanctuary; his people parted like the Red Sea wherever he went. It took him half the amount of time it normally would to reach you, and he walked like a lazy bastard. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he stood outside of your door. The building was filled to the brim with people who were afraid of him and who kissed his ass. You did neither. Negan was pretty sure that you actually liked him.

“Fee-fi-fo-fum! I smell the blood of a _major_ disappointment!” Negan said deeply. He waited a moment, expecting an opened door and an exasperated, but amused huff, but he was met with silence. With a deep frown, he banged Lucille against the door. “Hey, I’m not some Mormon douchebag going door to door handing out pamphlets and a promise for an eternal right to wipe God’s ass. I expect you to answer me when I knock!” With a final, angry huff, Negan smashed Lucille’s handle down on your doorknob, breaking it clean off. When he burst through the door, he was taken aback. “Shit.”

You lay on the on the ground, slumped against the wall as your head lolled to your chest. Your skin was pale and there was a blue tint to your fingertips and lips. Each breath was a gasp as you struggled to breathe.

Negan knelt down and lifted your chin. He smacked you across the cheek. “Oh, come on! Don’t be such a pussy.” Irritated, he flung you over his shoulder and got to his feet. “If I knew you’d be such a pain in the ass, I’d never would’ve let you stay,” he grunted.

~*~

“Alright, doc. I got a big old case of dumbass over here,” Negan announced as he unceremoniously lay you on one of the infirmary’s hospital beds.

Dr. Carsen looked up from his charts. “What’s the problem?” The doctor shrank under Negan’s glare. “Obviously you don’t know. That’s why you brought her here.”

Negan chuckled. “I _knew_ I kept you here for a reason!”

 Dr. Carson was rooted to the spot, nervously laughing along with Negan as he tried not to panic.

“You’re here.”

Negan turned as you weakly tugged at his hand. He raised a quizzical brow and knelt down. “Say that again, sweetheart. I can’t hear you through all of the choking.” When you reached out and touched his cheek, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell into an over exaggerated pout.

“You don’t have the right eyes,” you rasped.

“You are _really_ interesting when you’re about to die, do you know that?” Negan asked, both amused and mystified by your babble. “I mean, what the _shit_ are you talking about?”

Dr. Carson shined a light into your eyes before he listened to your lungs. “Is she a substance abuser?”

Negan winced and made a tiny space between his thumb and pointer finger. “Little bit.”

“She has track marks all over her arm. She overdosed on heroin.” The doctor stepped back and placed a hand on his forehead. “There’s nothing I can do. Traditionally we use Naltrexone or Nalmefene when someone OD’s, but I don’t have either. The only thing I can do now is make sure she’s breathing, calm, and keep her on her side.”   

“Christ, you’re really not good for anything are you?” Negan went to stand, but you wrenched him back down.

“I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”

Negan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Fuck me sideways,” he muttered before snagging a chair and throwing himself in. Setting an ankle on his knee and resting Lucille on his lap, he slouched down. “How long is this going to take?”

“No overdose is the same. She could wake up in a minute or go into a coma.” Carson gently rolled you to your side and covered you with a blanket.

Negan shifted. “Really? Holy shit.” He sounded more interested than concerned.

“I’m going to see if we have more IV drips. If she throws up, just make sure her airway is clear.”

“I’m on it, Doc.” Negan winked. Soon, he was alone with his dying business partner. Suddenly, he looked very tired. Running a hand down his face, Negan sighed. He did not do well around sick people, more specifically, sick people he didn’t hate. “What happened to you, kid?” he asked quietly.

~*~

There was a sudden fresh rush of air to your lungs as you took in your first clear breath. With a start, your eyes flew open and your heart jerked.

The sudden onslaught of sensory stimulation made your stomach lurch. Scrambling, you leaned over and vomited.

“Well, I guess your airways are clear.”

With a start, you sat up and looked to your right. Although a corner of Negan’s mouth was quirked up oh so slightly, the rest of his face was set in a hard mask. He wasn’t happy and that was a death sentence.

Negan tilted his head and smiled wryly. “Where the fuck do you get off?” He crossed his arms.

“Excuse me?” You began to shiver, but your debilitated state garnered no sympathy from Negan.

“You heard me. Where, the fuck do you get off?” Negan pointed to the door behind him. “I took your dumbass in. I made you my _partner_. Do you know how many partners I’ve had?”

You were silent.

“Answer me!” His voice was loud, and it caused you to jump.

His voice made your head throb and you became dizzy. “None.”

“And then you came in and you screwed me over!” Negan let out an angry huff. “You’re out, _and_ you’re quarantined.” He got to his feet and ripped the door open.

“What, so you’re putting me in timeout?”

“Oh, big time!” The door slammed behind him.

As another spout of shivers hit you, yourl buried your face in your hands. Your only ally and leader was furious with you and your business failed before it even started. Somehow you had even ruined the end of the world.

Your introspection was interrupted when Dr. Carson stepped into the room. “I could hear that all the way down the hallway.”

“He was the only one on my side. They’re going to kill me in here. I don’t know why, but everyone wants my head.” When Carson let out a short laugh, you looked up, perturbed.  “What’s so funny?”

Carson placed his stethoscope to your chest. “If he hated you, you would have gotten pretty friendly with Lucille just now. I mean, _quarantine?_ ” He snorted. “Never heard of that before. And everyone hates you because the big bad boss likes you, not to mention you didn't have to kiss his ass for months to be his friend.”

You looked at the door, as confused as ever. Never had a friendship been such a pain in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really fun chapter to write. There's such a fine line between Negan being concerned while also being a cheeky, insensitive dickhead. Hopefully I drew the line in the right spot.


	9. Book Club

While Negan’s idea of confining you for an indefinite amount of time was an incredibly creative and sufficient way of torture, it wasn’t a good way to curb your heroin addiction. Your adult timeout left you with nothing but an endless amount of free time to brood, and when you brooded you became anxious and your thoughts raced. You found the most effective way to deal with stress was to stick a needle in your arm and ride the heroin high.

Dr. Carson said that Negan had liked you, that he saw you as a friend, but you seriously questioned that when he took you from the hospital wing and threw you in your room while you went through withdrawal. You didn’t sleep for days and often woke up in puddles of you own vomit; you had to make sure to sleep on your side just so that you didn’t pull a Hendrix and choke to death.

The shakes had been so bad that you had wondered if you were seizing. Normally people would go through withdrawal in rehab under a doctor’s supervision, but you had been left to the wolves.

It had been a month since you had been tossed away and you were finally clean, but what was almost as suffocating as withdrawal was the crippling boredom. At the beginning of your stay, you had a whole bookshelf full of books, but you had quickly poured through them in the month and a half you had lived in the Sanctuary. Being holed up in your room gave you nothing but free time and reading was the next best escape after hard drugs. You had a television, but the movie selection at the conversary was sparse. They were big ticket items and you didn’t have the seniority to get the good ones.

There was no man eating, great white shark in your future.

“Hey, are you alive in there?”

“Yes,” you answered Simon’s mocking question. It was the one he asked every day. As if your jail time wasn’t punishment enough, the only person you were allowed to talk to was Simon, and you were sure that Negan assigned him to you on purpose.

Simon sighed. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

With a sudden surge of anger, you jumped up and smashed your palm against your door. To your delight, you heard a shuffle – you had made him jump.

“You’re walking on thin ice, girl. I don’t know what you did, but you really pissed Negan off and I don’t think he’d care if something ill accidently befell you.” He opened the door and handed you your lunch. “Just keep an eye out.” He smirked as you cautiously took the food.

“Can I have more books?”

Simon didn’t bother to answer before he shut the door.

Defeated, you sat on your bed and stared down at your food. You had been fed the same thing since your “quarantine,” and you still weren’t sure what you were eating. It was a large loaf made of…something. You definitely knew that there was cabbage and the binding agent had to have been flour. As far as you knew, the rest was a mix of vegetables and some kind of meat.

It was disgusting, but it had the basic nutrients you needed to stay healthy. With a grimace, you began to eat. You were able to choke down a third of the loaf until you had to set it aside. It was just when you had decided that sleep would be the best way to pass the day when your door opened a second time.

You cocked your head – no one was there. You opened your mouth, about to demand an explanation when something was tossed inside. The door was slammed closed before you could even process what happened.

“What in the blue blazes?” Standing up, you went to investigate what had been hurled into your room. Your hands wrapped around the soft spine of an old, worn book. On the front was a sketch of a jungle, although the lines were faded and parts of the cover was creased. Your eyes searched for the title.

_The Lord of the Flies_

A smile stretched across your face. How fitting. You opened the book and found the pages to be velvety soft from use. The book had been well loved. As you began to flip through the novel, your eyes widened; in the margins of every page were dozens of notes, questions, and analytics. Snippets of the text were underlined or highlighted, while others had exclamation or question marks written above them.

Flipping to a random page, you read an annotation;

  * _By now they reflect a modern political society_
  * _‘littluns’ rep. common men_
  * _Older boys either kind/cruel = civilization/savagery theme_



You hadn’t read _The Lord of the Flies_ since middle school, so you were excited to start the classic, especially with such articulate annotations.

Flipping to the first page, your heart fell. Everything the Saviors had was either scavenged or taken. Whoever the pseudo scholar was, he or she was probably dead.

On the top of the first page was scrawled;

_ Civilization v. Barbarism: The Fight of the Century! _

It was a play on the title historians and sports writers had given to the boxing match between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier, and it made you laugh for the first time in you didn’t know how long. You pressed the book to your chest and lay down on your bed, finally having something to look forward to.

~*~

Ever Since Negan had destroyed your doorknob, anyone could barge into your room. It was when you had flipped to the fifth chapter of your mysterious book that someone took advantage of your damaged property.

“Don’t read too much. I heard it makes you smart and I just don’t know if you can handle it.”

You let the book drop onto your face. “You’re already torturing me with solitary confinement. You don’t have to taunt me.” It was unbelievably stupid to insult the man who crushed skulls when he felt a little cranky.

“You know, I could make things a lot worse than they already are. So If I were you, I’d shut your mouth, and do what I say.”

You sat up and saw that Negan’s face was dark. His mouth was set in a firm line and his brow was creased from years of scowling. You sat up – Negan was not one to trifle with today.

He pointed Lucille at you. “You’re coming with me to the Hilltop. You’re back in, but only because the world doesn’t have free WiFi anymore and google doesn’t exist. Surprisingly, I know fuck all about harvesting opium, so you’ll answer my questions like a good girl and not shoot up the product. Do you think you can handle it?”

You nodded firmly. It was a rhetorical question and you weren’t going to poke the bear by questioning Negan’s plan.

“I just need to get dressed. It will take me five minutes.” As much as you wanted to go out in a sweater and sweatpants, the apocalypse had a very specific dress code.

When Negan didn’t move, you jabbed your finger down the hallway. “ _Go!_ ”

With a suggestive smirk and a mischievous wink, Negan wordlessly slinked around the corner.

“Pig,” you muttered before stepping out of your comfy clothes. It was odd, not having to go out into the wastelands without your belt of liquor. You had been so used to fending for yourself – now you felt spoiled. This would be your first time going out since your first visit to the Hilltop.

Placing your guns in their holster and Charlie Hustle’s knife in its sheath, you were about to leave when you caught your reflection in the mirror. You stopped and slowly raised your hand to your burn; it was rough and leathery, and it disgusted you. With a small distressed cry, you grabbed your red scarf and wrapped it around your head.

“What the fuck?” Negan grimaced once you stepped out into the hallway. “Are you a 1960s housewife now?”

“Nope. Just have a good dose of low self-esteem and self-loathing,” you answered plainly, not bothering to turn as you walked by him. “Let’s go.” Unfortunately, the scarf was ripped from your head in one smooth yank. “Hey!”

“For the last goddamn time,” Negan began, twirling the scarf between his fingers, “that burn makes you look like you can kick some _serious_ ass and it’s awesome. Covering it with this makes you look like a pussy and a jackass.” He held the cloth up and grinned. “And what do you know? Red is my color.” He tied the scarf around his neck.

 It really was his color.

~*~

“They’re growing at the normal rate a papaver somniferum would,” Jesus explained as he led you and Negan to the plots. “The buds haven’t bloomed yet and it won’t happen for another 8-12 weeks.” You stopped in front of the seedlings. “As far as the heroin production goes, my knowledge ends.”

You looked to Negan. “Am I allowed to talk, or am I gonna get a kiss from Lucille?”

Negan looked to Jesus. “Did she just joke about getting bludgeoned to death or am I just having a really good dream?” He held up a finger. “No, I know it’s real because we all have our clothes on.”

Jesus tried to keep his look of disgust contained as he knelt down next to you.

“The petals will fall off about two days after they bloom,” you explained. “The seed capsule is what has the opium. We’ll harvest from that.” You straightened up. “They need another two months to grow and we still need to get the supplies for production. Have you started to get the materials you’re responsible for?”

Jesus didn’t even try to hide his look of reproach. “We’re hardly able to get you your standard supplies, much less for this…business venture.”

You shook your head. “Negan’s not going to like that.”

Jesus briefly looked over his shoulder before he leaned in. “Have you given our previous conversation any thought?”

It was your turn to look over your shoulder. Negan was happily chomping on an apple he had ripped away from an older gentlemen, the scarf you had been using to hide behind still wrapped securely around his neck.

“Yeah, I did,” you said. You looked back to Jesus and smiled softly.

“And?”

“And…fuck you, Jesus.”

~*~

You weren’t sure if you were still supposed to be confined to your room, but logic put you back on your bed. It was better safe than sorry, and you were really invested in your book and the person who had loved it.

  * _Ralph’s participation in the hunt shows underlying bloodlust_
    * **_ALL_** _are capable of savagery, no matter the strength of civil instinct or moral compass_
  * _Reenact of hunt = desire of power_
  * _Turning point_



“Fuck me,” you mumbled, setting the book down. The plot was getting all too familiar and it was becoming less of a story and more of a reflection of your life. You leaned back and closed your eyes – there was enough savagery in your day to day existence. Reading about barbaric kids was becoming too much. With a sigh, you placed the book on your nightstand and turned out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	10. Pod People

“This is bullshit,” you said icily, your arms crossed tightly across your chest. “I specifically said that I was only going to work with you. That was my one condition.”

Negan looked at you through the corner of his eye. “Yeah, you were a real bitch about it too.” He sent you a charming smile before turning back to the crowd of Saviors.

You were both standing on the uppermost walkway in the main hall of the Sanctuary, gazing down at the rest of your people. Only a month ago you had watched a man get cooked alive in the very same room, only now to be lording over them. You didn’t know why Negan felt the need to call you up here during his announcement – you were incredibly uncomfortable and your presence was unnecessary. But what Negan wanted, Negan got.

His fingers curled around the hand railing as he looked across the sea of faces. “So, we’re all here today because I need…some help.”

The room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Although you were loath to admit it, you couldn’t help but step back and watch Negan. He was animated, charismatic, and charming. It was hard to have people listen to you, so how a whole factory of people could take a knee to a single man baffled you.

You let the puppet master pull the strings.

“The Saviors are starting a new enterprise and it’s going to _seriously_ make you trip balls!” Negan’s voice reverberated off of the walls as he spoke and for the first time, you understood why those of the weaker mind could bow down. “You think we’re rolling in it now?” Negan held up a finger. “We will have a surplus of food,” a second finger, “water,” a third finger, “weapons, medicine, and whatever the hell else you can think of.”

It was when he turned to you that you froze. “Don’t you dare.”

Wearing a Cheshire grin that would put the Cat’s to shame, Negan held your gaze. “[Y/N] here has brought us a drug trafficking network, and while I know that this might come with some stigma…” Negan smacked the hand railing. “The workers will be vetted and the business will be separated from families.” He leaned towards you. “Do I sound like the Godfather when he’s meeting with the Five Families, or what?”

You averted your gaze, feeling caught. Your movie buff and bookworm brain had been thinking _exactly_ that. “Try to be more original with your leadership.”

Negan hummed. “Asshole,” he muttered before turning back to the crowd. “I’m talking to you fine people today because we’re going on a little shopping spree, and I need some extra hands. So if I call your name, get your sweet ass over to the conference room, where we’ll have a briefing.” He shrugged.

As Negan rattled off the names of your A Team, you silently pleaded for Simon’s name to be left out and for Dwight and Gavin to be called.

When Gavin's name was said, your relief lasted for only a moment.

“And Simon, bringing up the rear!”

“Oh, fuck me.” You spun on your heel and stalked off.

~*~

It was hard to have time to yourself at the Sanctuary. The place was filled to the brim with people, many of them former criminals. Normally, you would have stayed in your room if you wanted some alone time, but after being sequestered there for a month, it was the last place you wanted to be – but you were creative and there was one place no sane person would want to be.

After snagging _The Lord of the Flies_ from your nightstand, you trotted out to the yard.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted the walkers cheerily.

Your eyes fell on a poor soul nailed to a stake. It reached out its gnarled hand and let out a long rasp. Your fingers wrapped around the links of the fence as you hoisted yourself over into the pit. Landing firmly on your feet, you expertly weaved between the retching corpses, leaning away from the hands trying to rip you to shreds. When you were finally a distance where no sane person would follow you, you sat down and opened your book.

Your logic was sound – no sane person would hop a fence and push through the living dead just to bother you, but you had forgotten that there was an absolute lunatic under your roof.

His shadow blocked out the sun.

“Are you looking for some real estate, because you’re really starting to look like you’d fit in here.”

You looked up with dull, unamused eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Negan flopped down next to you, propping himself up on his elbows. “It means that you’re a dickhead and you’re about two seconds away from meeting the same fate as no tits over there.” He pointed to a walker who was only an upper body with an exposed ribcage. You watched as it slowly dragged itself across the ground.

You balked. “Why? I’m one of your strongest members and I work hard-”

Negan held up a finger. “On the jobs you _want_ to do.” At this you went silent and Negan smiled triumphantly. “See, you’re not a team player. You hate Simon. Guess who else hates Simon? Everyone, because he’s a massive prick who bullies people even when there’s nothing to gain from it. But you don’t see anyone else complain because they understand that he is a pivotal part of our success and they’re adults.” You got a sharp poke to the forehead. “You need to put your big girl pants on and grow up because even though Simon acts like a grade A piece of shit, he’s one of our best shots and will have your back out there even if he hates you.”

You blinked owlishly and sucked in a breath, trying to find the words to defend yourself, but you knew you had just been put in your place. So, you looked up at the blue sky.

“I’ll get along with him. Somehow. He doesn’t make it easy.”

Negan was already on his feet and uninterested. “I really don’t care,” he called. “Just get it done! Now we have a meeting to get to!” Although his words were dismissive, he sounded cheerful. However, he stayed shockingly silent the entire walk to the conference room.

By the time you had reached the door, you had had enough. You lightly took him by the shoulder.

“Do I need to call Dr. Bernell, because I’m afraid you’ve become a goddamn pod person.”

Negan turned to you. Resting Lucille on the ground and placing both hands on the top of her handle, he cocked his head. “See, here’s the thing – I’m the king of ‘he doesn’t make it easy,’ but you get along with me just dandy, which is fucking weird. But that means you shouldn’t have a problem getting along with anyone.” He was about to turn, but hesitated. Leaning forward, he said, “And between you and me, if you were to call anyone from that movie for me, it would be Becky Driscoll. I feel like doctors would be really good in the sack.”

You leaned forward as well. “With women, academics are the hot ticket because they’re more likely to take no for an answer if we say we’re not in the mood.” You were charmed when Negan looked the other way and chuckled.

Opening the door, he stepped aside to usher you in with a lingering touch to your upper back. It was soft and quick, so much so that part of you questioned whether it even happened. However, you didn’t have time to wonder because you had a table of Saviors staring at you and it was time to put your game face on. You took the last available seat, furthest away from the head of the table.

Seated were Simon, Gavin, and Laura. You immediately turned to Negan. “Where’s Dwight?”

Negan winced. “We had a little bit of a falling out. He didn’t like the way I handled your tweaker bullshit and you know how that whole insubordination thing goes.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you know he actually tried to run away once?”

You were taken aback. Even though you had a strong connection with Dwight, you knew very little about him. “No, I didn’t.”

Negan nodded. “Yeah. I lost a good amount of men because of it.” Almost cruelly, he didn’t say anymore, instead taking his seat at the head of the table. He smiled. “Some of my favorite people are in this room. I know you’re not supposed to have favorites as a leader, but you guys are some of the best of the best, which is why,” he placed several papers down on the table, “I’ve chosen you to go on this little shopping spree with us.” Negan poked the sheets before he looked to you.

“There’s a chemical plant a few miles away,” you began without missing a beat. “It’s our best bet. It will hopefully have most if not all of the supplies we need. I also have the Hilltop looking for the easier items.”

“Seems like a lot of work for a ‘maybe.’” Laura looked to Negan.

He snorted. “When has anything been certain? Where have you been the last few years?”

Simon sent a brief glance your way before he also turned to Negan. “There’s a difference between laying our asses on the line for food and water. This sounds like some sort of idealistic fantasy.”

Negan’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. Lacing his fingers together, he spoke. “Simon, I feel like you’re calling me stupid.”

It was truly a sight to see, watching Simon squirm. He immediately began to backtrack when he realized his big mistake.

He smiled nervously. “It’s a fantasy for anyone else. You’re perfectly capable, Negan.”

You had never seen Simon grovel before and it took every ounce of self-control not to smile. Negan was right, you had to grow up and not get wrapped up in petty feuds and the he-said she-saids.

Negan smiled back. “I’m just messing with you, Simon, Jesus!” He looked to the rest of you. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Be ready by 7.”

Pushing yourself away from the table, you stood. However you didn’t follow your peers – instead you waited by the door, watching as Negan gave the papers another once over. He thoughtfully stroked his chin as his hazel eyes scanned your handwriting.

Call him what you want, but he was an attentive leader. “Are you sure we can get this?” he finally asked, his eyes meeting yours. “Because I’m not going to lose men on some wild goose chase. I just defended you in front of them because I respect the plan, but man to woman, I need you to look me in the eye and say that I’m not wasting my time.”

Pulling up a chair, you folded your hands and looked Negan dead in the eye. With confidence, you answered, “I was willing to go by myself and that offer is still on the table. _That_ is how sure I am of this mission. And if you do lose anyone, it’s because they’re dead weight. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

“Well, aren’t you just a peach?” Negan banged his hand on the table. “I love me some honesty! See you bright and early tomorrow.” You were halfway out of your seat when he placed a hand on yours. “I just want to warn you that I can be _so_ annoying in the morning.”

You leaned forward. “I look forward to it.”

Negan slung an arm over the back of his chair. “You know, the crazy thing is that I actually believe you.”

You began to back out of the room. “That’s because it’s true.”

For once, you got the last word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are picking up!


	11. The Calm Before the Storm

You chewed on your fingernail as fat, salty tears rolled down your face. In the dim light of your lamp they glistened on your warm skin for only a moment before you wiped them away with the back of your hand. Those that you missed clung to your lashes, making your red eyes shine in the gloom.

With a final, shaky breath, you set _The Lord of the Flies_ down and hugged your knees to your chest. How the hell did you forget a single word, no - a single c _omma_ , in that book? The loss of innocence, the brutality, and the savagery overwhelmed you.

With a final swipe across the eyes, you looked at the clock – 6:45AM. You had been up all night and had 15 minutes to prepare for an imperative raid. To say that you were both emotionally and mentally exhausted would be putting it lightly, but you were going to have to soldier through. There was no such thing as pity among the Saviors.

As you got dressed, you began to wonder if you resented Charlie Hustle. What he had described sounded like a paradise, and while you were one of the lucky ones who had a modern room, living under a brutal dictator could be terrifying.

However, were you really one to complain? Negan was undoubtedly an unhinged maniac who had a hair trigger, but the more time you spent with him, the more it appeared to be an act. The idea had fleshed out as you read your novel, which had been dropped into your lap at the most convenient of times.

What had that annotation said?

_  Civilization v. Barbarism: The Fight of the Century! _

What had Negan been like before the apocalypse? When he was civilized, before the savagery? You weren’t a fool – he wasn’t a good person, not anymore, but that hadn’t stopped you from wanting to spend time with him. He treated you well.

Savage or not, you had grown to like the man. Logic said that his behavior should have disgusted you, but it did not sully your opinion of him. Although there was always an underlying shadow of danger, with a bloodstained bat always within eyesight, your encounters were more or less enjoyable. Perhaps being a brute was a survival mechanism.

If Negan was so terrible, why was he the only person who hadn’t recoiled at your disfigurement? Not only did he like your burn scar, but he consistently assured your self-worth and boosted your confidence.

Could the guy really be all that bad?

You began to massage the bridge of your nose as you remembered the poor soul who crossed Negan on the day you met. He had done absolutely nothing to deserve the brutal execution Negan had dealt. His blood had pooled at your feet, mixing with the rain water and mud. It was red, just like your scarf that Negan now wore so proudly around his neck. He had no reason to take away your security blanket, another way you had enabled your shame and self-loathing, but he did.

A sudden crash and a shrill scream interrupted your introspection. Immediately, you sprung into action. Adrenaline spiked through your veins as you grabbed your pistol. Pressing your back against the wall, you reached over and opened your door.

“Good _fucking_ morning!” Negan greeted, a smile stretched across his stupid face. He looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Paula.”

You stepped away from the wall, slack jawed and irritated. “So nothing’s wrong?”

“Nope!” Negan stood in your doorway, much too cheerful for the time of day. He held Lucille in one hand, relaxed at his side. In the other was an Eggo Waffle. “I seem to recall telling you that I was annoying in the morning.” He took a bite of his waffle. “And,” he mumbled between chews, “ _you_ said you looked forward to it.”

You shook your head. “Annoying is waking me up by singing loudly or putting my hand in water.”

This made Negan raise an eyebrow. “So you’d rather piss your pants?”

“Then think we’re under attack? Yes.” Negan looked at you through narrowed eyes and you turned away. “Stop trying to figure me out.”

“I already did.” He waved you over. “Now get your ass over here. It’s supposed to rain and if we don’t leave now, we’re gonna be wetter than a mermaid’s twat.”

You winced, disgusted by Negan’s crass words. However, you chose to ignore the remark and shrugged on your pack. After double checking your weapons, you strode up to Negan, who looked as amused as ever. He opened his fat mouth, surely about to say something disgusting, but he was silenced when your hand dove under his waistband.

Negan’s eyes blew wide open. “Holy shit!” You earned a massive, lopsided grin. “Well, it’s about damn time!”

Giving Negan a withering look, you pulled the Desert Eagle Mark VII out of his pants. With a smooth motion, you checked to see how many bullets the gun had.

“Fully loaded. I have bullets for this if you run out.”

Negan raised a suggestive eyebrow. “The least you can do is put it back.”

You shoved the gun to his chest. “Let’s go,” you grumbled, pushing passed your boss.

Negan’s eyes followed you as you stalked off. “It’s all fun and games until someone gets a ticket to bonerville,” he muttered, adjusting his belt.

He was right about the rain. A foreboding, grey sky greeted you as you stepped out into the morning. Somehow the world seemed devoid of color as your eyes swept the yard and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. There was a palpable energy in the air that engulfed you, making you unsure and uneasy.

A storm was coming.

You quickly descended the stairs and made your way to the rest of the group. Laura, Simon, and Gavin were waiting dutifully by two trucks, packed and ready to go.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Simon said as you sidled up next to him. “We’ve been waiting on you and your beauty rest.”

“Can it, Simon,” Gavin ordered. “We’re all on the same team, remember?”

“Gavin, you sack of shit! Do you ever look happy?” Negan burst through the door and greeted the day with a smile. Smoothly resting Lucille over his shoulder, Negan rested his hand on the railing as he took stock. After a moment, he spoke. “Now, I’m not going to be your fucking daddy on this run, but if I say ‘jump,’ not only do you ask, ‘how high?’ but, ‘in what direction?’” He raised his eyebrows. “Is that clear?”

A chorus of “Yes sir’s!” rang through the morning air.

Negan’s smile widened. “Excellent! Now let’s get those asses moving!”

You had never liked driving in the rain, so when you slid into the driver’s seat, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of apprehension. Unfortunately, you were the one who knew where this chemical plant was and not only needed to drive, but lead the caravan.

I am Oz, the great and the powerful. 

 No. The original quote was, “the great and the terrible.” With a snort, you stuck the keys in the ignition and the truck hummed to life. As a Savior, you were pretty terrible by default. Your awful person stock went up even further when you exchanged friendship bracelets with Negan.

You turned when the passenger door was ripped open, bringing a rush of cool air into the cabin. Negan swung into the car in one fluid motion. Throwing himself heavily into the seat, he slammed the door shut and clapped his hands.

“Onward!” He looked to you. “And fight the urge to reach into my pants again. You need to keep both hands on the steering wheel. Can’t have you grabbing my ding dong when you’re supposed to be focusing on the road.”

You were silent for a moment as you absorbed Negan’s words. Finally you said, “Why are you the way you are? What is wrong with you?” Rather than answer, Negan only stared at you. In an instant you regretted your bold outburst and turned away. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Just as you were coming to terms with your death sentence, you heard a sputtering sound. Timidly, you chanced a side glance at Negan and were surprised at what you saw.

The man was silently laughing into his fist. The corners of his eyes were joyfully crinkled as he chuckled and a slight flush dusted his face, making him look oddly human.

You deflated, realizing that you weren’t going to be beaten to a pulp. Instead, you watched your friend laugh. You couldn’t help but smile a bit yourself.

“Where do you get the balls to talk to me like that?” he finally asked.

You began to pull out of the yard. “I’ve never been one to live by fear. You’re not the first lunatic I’ve had to deal with.” When your tires hit the main road, you sat back. “Why are you up here? The car in front has the highest probability of being attacked.” You had half a mind to pull over. If Negan died, the Saviors would implode and you would have nowhere to go.

Negan slouched down in his seat and propped his feet up on the dashboard. “I’m up here because no one back there would ask what’s wrong with me.”

You looked at him skeptically. “Okay, buddy.”

Negan didn’t reply. He had busied himself with your list of supplies.

“How many times are you going to look at that?”

It was Negan’s turn to look down at you. “See, if you were responsible, you would have committed this to memory.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You memorized the list?” You were shocked. It wasn’t just some casual shopping list, but a paper scrawled with chemicals like acetic anhydrate, its estimated quantity, the amount needed per kilogram of opium, and all the supplies needed to cook the drug.

Negan shook his head in disapproval and you suddenly felt like you flunked a major test. He held up the papers. “I can almost guarantee you that we’re gonna lose this shit in there. If I don’t memorize it, then we’re just going to be left there with our dicks in our hand and this whole run would have been for nothing.”

You shifted in your seat. “I didn’t even think of that.”

Negan glowered. “Are you really telling me you didn’t memorize this?”

“I guess I was taking you for granted. Sorry.” You felt nothing short of foolish, so much so that you kept your mouth shut and your eyes forward for the rest of the drive.

After half an hour of silence, you finally turned to the plant’s driveway. The truck’s tires crunched on the gravel as your drove down the road. Smokestacks kissed the sky, even higher than those of the Sanctuary, and pipes weaved in and out of the building in a complex web. You could imagine the poison splashing through the tubs, mere inches away from the clean air. The brakes squeaked as you brought the truck to a stop.

Without a beat, Negan had jumped out of the cab. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slid out of your chair and onto the gravel. Behind you, you heard car doors slam shut.

Negan had already sauntered up to the gate by the time you straightened up. He turned around, all smiles. Reaching back, he tapped a sign. In capital letters, it warned, “Danger Ahead!”

“Well, it looks like they knew I was coming!”

“So, what’s the plan?” Laura stepped up, hiking her bag onto her shoulder.

Negan leaned back against the fence. “Well, if you’d let me finish you would know.” When he was sure there weren’t going to be any more interruptions, Negan continued. “Now, I am very, no, _annoyingly_ aware that some of you don’t get along, but when we’re in there,” he pointed Lucille above the fence, “we’re all we got. So ya’ll gotta learn how to swallow your damn pride, and work together.”

Your eyes briefly flitted to Simon’s and his to yours. When they met you saw Simon’s lip curl, but he gave you a stiff nod and you returned it.

“Look at that!” Negan called. “Already playing nice! Now, we’re going in together, none of that splitting up shit. We’re not going to get separated and then get picked off like a bunch of assholes one by one in there. This ain’t Scooby Doo.” He was about to say more when there was a rustle.

In a breath everyone’s hand was on their gun, the clicks of the safety being shut off was music to your ears. With a rasp, a thin walker came stumbling out of a bush. It wore a dirty white dress shirt, tie, and dress pants, but his most distinguishing feature was his jaw, which hung on only by a single strip of flesh.

“Oh, you are _gnarly_!” Negan barked. He stepped towards the thing, completely relaxed. Reaching out, he poked the walker’s dangling jaw before jumping back and covering his mouth. He laughed. “Gross!” Then, as good as any designated hitter, Negan gripped Lucille with both hands and brought her over his shoulder. In one powerful motion, he brought the bat down. It collided with the walker’s head with a sickening thud, and caused the body part to snap clean off its neck. The head sailed through the air, over the cars and out of sight.

You watched as the body stumbled along drunkenly for a second or two before crumpling on itself.

“Boom! Homerun!” Negan shouted, stepping back on his heels. He grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be _fun!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else want to punch Rick over and over again at this point in the show? I've been white knuckling my way through each episode, just waiting for our baby to die because he's the "bad guy" and that's what happens to bad guys. #givepeaceachance 
> 
> I'm really excited for the next chapter.


	12. Blossom

The hallway was almost completely dark, only visible by the dull, grey morning light shining through the glass doors. As you stepped inside, a rat as big as your foot scuttled down the hallway, squeaking as it disappeared into the dimness.

“This better have what we’re looking for,” Laura warned, her face twisted with disgust.

You stepped over an overturned file cabinet. “It will. This is where they manufacture the chemicals to make the products we use. Makeup, plastic, even food. They’ll have every chemical under the sun.” You began to navigate into the depths of the plant.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Negan said as you felt Lucille jab into the small of your back. “Don’t go telling me that what I put in my mouth is made in a petri dish by some douchebag. I don’t need that.”

“’The true characters of ignorance are vanity and pride and arrogance,’” you quoted sagely. This time Negan pushed you hard enough to make you stumble, causing your heart to leap into your throat. Luckily, Gavin grabbed you under the arm. “Thank you,” you breathed. He only nodded in return.

_Show me the way to go home_

“This place smells like piss.” Simon’s voice was bitter as he carefully took in your surroundings, making sure that you were alone. He had been forced to hunch over - his tall stature made him vulnerable to walk into cobwebs and other dirty side effects of an aging, un kept building. “How do we know our shit’s not contaminated?” He shined his flashlight in your face. “People are gonna shoot up and fucking die. We’ll kill our customers.”

You smacked his hand away. “Everything’s sealed in barrels. It should be fine.”

“Shut up, Simon,” Negan drawled. He was strolling behind the rest of the group as if you were taking a walk in the park on a fine spring morning, leisurely swinging Lucille back and forth. “Just…enjoy the day.”

You covered your mouth, knowing that Simon would not appreciate a laugh at his expense. The tension between you two could already be cut by a knife. Luckily, there was a sudden dull roar of rain.

“Oh, damn.” You hopped across the garbage that littered the ground and looked out the window. Raindrops pelted onto the asphalt, coming down so fast that you could barely make out the trees across the street. “‘Little bitty stingin' rain, and big ol' fat rain, rain that flew in sideways…’” you recited quietly in your best Alabama twang.

“Hey!”

You whipped around to see Gavin at the end of the hallway, poking his head through a set of double doors.

“I think we found what we’re looking for.”

Soon, Negan was right behind him. After taking a look, he glanced over his shoulder and caught your eye. “Oh, you’re gonna cream your pants.”

Before you could respond, he disappeared behind the doors with a smile that was nothing short of fiendish.

Curious about what could make you so excited, you set your course down the hallway and quickly made it through the doors, only to stop in your tracks.

Inside was a massive room filled with vats ten times your size. Once you were sure they shined like the chrome in a 50s diner, but now they gathered dust after years of going unused. Rusty pipes zigged and zagged from every corner of the room and endless torn conveyer belts stretched from one end to the other, yet that wasn’t what impressed you. What got you going were the large blue barrels of chemicals neatly labeled and packaged on pallets.  

Negan leaned over. “Are you in tweaker heaven or what?”

The supply was phenomenal, so you bit your tongue. “We still have to find the production supplies.”

Simon rested a hand on one of the barrels. “Gavin and I will round up the barrels. Got the list?”

With an irritated shake of the head and a roll of the eyes, Negan produced the sheets of paper. “You’re all a steaming pile of disappointment, and what part of ‘stick together’ do you not understand, Simon?” He allowed Simon to snatch the paper from his fingers.  

The two men stared at each other and the room suddenly felt much smaller. You shifted nervously from foot to foot, uncomfortable by the heavy silence. Before things could escalate, there was a resounding clap of thunder, its boom reverberated off the walls and shook the ground beneath your feet.

Everyone paused and looked up.

Laura’s voice was hurried. “We need to hurry up if we want to get back in one piece.”

That was when things fell apart.

The guttural groans were almost as loud as the thunder.

“Shit,” Simon swore.

Across the room a door swung open on a broken hinge. The first walker stumbled through gracelessly, its canary yellow hardhat swirling around on its head. Its jumpsuit was stained with dried blood and vomit. The one behind it looked similar, as did the next, and the next, and the next…

Negan opened his arms. “I didn’t know it was a party! I would’ve brought something!” In a flash, he shot the first walker in between the eyes. It fell to the ground, only to be stepped on by its companions.

The hissing and moaning was loud in your ears as you looked for a place to take cover. To your right there was an opened door. Making sure your path was clear, you leapt into the room. Pressing your back against the wall, you took several breaths before rounding the corner and firing off several rounds.

Although you and Simon had your differences, Gavin had been right. You were on the same team, and when you saw a walker amble up behind him, your gut wrenched.

“Simon!” you called before you had to recede. You were out of ammo and needed to reload. You just hoped he had heard you in time.

The plant rang with gunshots and shouts, but you didn’t have time to see who was still alive. Your skin was damp with sweat and your breaths were short and haggard as you loaded more bullets into your pistol. Just as you were about to reach around again, Negan came stumbling in. Fleshy pulp clung to Lucille’s barbs and his chest was heaving. He looked at you with wild eyes.

He pointed Lucille at you. “You…” he panted, “are an asshole.” It looked like he was going to say more, but a withered hand clenched down on his bicep. He immediately turned and raised the vicious bat over his head. “Oh, I am not,” he crashed Lucille on top of the walker’s head, “dying,” he punctuated every word with a violent whack of Lucille, “today! _Especially_ -by-a-return-of-the-living-dead-piece-of-shit-like-you!” With a sickening crunch, the walker’s skull collapsed.

Specks of old blood spattered his cheeks and shirt. He carelessly wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked up. “I think they’re gone.”

He was right. The plant had gone eerily quiet.

“Hey, Simon?” Negan called, leaning back against the wall.

Simon didn’t answer immediately. When he did, he sounded tired. “All present and accounted for, boss man!”

Negan chuckled. “Excellent!” He took a moment to catch a few breaths. “Now this doesn’t change anything-”

The entire plant was lit up as bright as day as a streak of lightening splashed through the sky. Suddenly, there was a deafening rip and a crash. Before you could even process what had happened, you were wrenched away.

You landed heavily on the ground as a massive tree crashed through the roof. Wooden splinters rained down on you, cracking against your head and scratching your skin. You began to cough as dirt filled your lungs and you closed your eyes, waiting for the dust to settle.

“You alive or am I just talking to myself?”

“I think so.” Slowly, you sat up and took in your surroundings. Where you had been standing only moments before was now a massive deadfall of gnarled branches.

“Lightning must’ve hit it.” You looked at Negan. He was sitting against the wall, brushing dirt off of his shoulders. “Cut the building right in half.” He made a chopping motion with his hand and clicked his tongue. “I totally saved your ass.”

You sat up, your movements slow due to your aching muscles. “Thank you.”

“You all okay over there?” Simon’s voice was muffled, but understandable.

“We’re fantastic Simon! How’s it looking on your end?” Negan called back.

 “We’re all fine over here. You two sit tight. We’ll figure a way to get you out.”

Negan loosened his shoulder. “We’ll braid each other’s hair and tell our fortunes. Now get going you lousy son of a bitch!” When he was met with silence, he let out a long whistle and rubbed his eye. “Shit. Today could have gone a lot of ways but I did _not_ expect to be fucked over by a tree.”

You touched your temple. “I almost got all of you killed.”

Negan scoffed. “If you start apologizing, I will shoot you in the face. Don’t insult me. I’m a big boy.” He stretched out a leg and set Lucille down next to him. “I make my own damn decisions and I _decided_ to come here.”

You were about to foolishly apologize again when you noticed the drops of scarlet that were gathering by his thigh. “You’re bleeding!”

Negan looked down in mild interest. Holding up his hand, you saw that a large gash ran across his palm. Trickles of blood flowed from the wound, going all the way down his wrist and onto the ground. Negan only chuckled.

“Shit. Well, would you look at that?”

You only shook your head. “Jerk,” you muttered. You began to rifle through your backpack, thanking yourself for having the foresight to pack as much medical supplies as you did. Once you had everything you needed, you slid next to Negan and took his hand.

“Fuck, at least buy me dinner first,” he taunted as you examined his hand.  

You held up your own. “Shut up. For once in your life, just shut up. This could go septic and I don’t think you’d like walking around with a stump.

Negan’s eyes widened and he grinned with delight. He wiggled his shoulders. “Yes, ma’am!”

You chose to ignore his flirtation and took his arm under your armpit. Reaching over, you grabbed a bottle of vodka.

You always carried alcohol.

“This is going to hurt.” You warned before dousing the wound. To his credit, Negan didn’t cry out, but he did reach back and punch a hole in the dry wall.

“You okay?” You began to thread a needle. “I don’t have anything to numb your palm for the stitches. I’m sorry. You’ll just have to bare.” You felt bad. Knowing that you were hurting someone, even if it was to help them, didn’t sit well with you.

Your distress must have been obvious, because Negan spoke up. “Do you really think this is the worst thing that has happened to me since everything went to shit?”

A small, relieved laugh fell from your lips. “Okay. Just sit still and try not to make an ass of yourself.”

“Don’t ask me to do stupid things.”

Dabbing his palm dry with a cloth from your pack, you began to sew the wound up. Negan’s hand was much larger than yours and calloused from all of the bones he had broken over the years.

“So did you like the book?”

You paused and closed your eyes. With a scoff, you gushed, “Its themes reflect the society that we live in today. We are in a constant state of civilization versus savagery, and we see the boys’ transformation into barbarians as the real tragedy-” You stopped and turned to Negan. “How do you know about the book?”

“Oh, don’t suddenly get stupid on me.” He smiled.

You went slack jawed and looked away. “Well, I’ll be fucked.”  You turned back. “ _You?_ An academic?”

Negan held up a finger. “I resent that. Why is it so inconceivable that I like to read and what’s more, analyze what I’ve read?”

“Because you seem to be of the savage side at first glance.” You smoothly pulled the needle through Negan’s skin.

He raised an eyebrow. “‘At first glance?’”

Your hand hovered for a moment. You were nervous to voice what you had been thinking for weeks to the man himself. “Someone who can annotate a classic novel so articulately and be unusually kind to a random burn victim can’t be a complete savage.” You chanced a glance at your old scarf. _His_ scarf.

For once, Negan thought before he spoke. “You’re the first one I’ve met who’s managed to stay a good person after all of the bullshit and I would feel like the world’s biggest prick if I ruined that.”

“I’m a recovering drug addict turned drug lord.” You laughed humorlessly. “I have a nice cushy seat in hell waiting for me.”

Negan shook his head. “See, just the fact that you’re aware that what you do is shitty and feel bad about it makes you less shitty. You saved Simon’s life today and he’s your least favorite person in the world. As for the burn,” he shrugged, “it’s just cool.” He shifted. “Now, tell me if I’m sticking my dick where it shouldn’t be, but exactly how did part of your face turn into a badass badge?”

You tied off the stiches and cut the extra thread. You released Negan’s hand. He brought it up to his face and examined your handiwork.

“I tried to save someone.”

Negan looked to you, his face sombered. “Tried?”

“That’s all I want to say.”

He sighed. “Man, I’m sorry, kid.” He flexed his hand again several times.

You weren’t sure what gave you the courage to speak. “What did you do before this?”

Negan leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Teasing his lower lip between his teeth, he chuckled softly. “I coached little league.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “No shit?”

Negan nodded and flexed his hand again. “What did you do? Not everybody knows how to sew someone up.”

Your eyes dulled. “It doesn’t matter.” To your relief, Negan left it alone.

As the rain continued to patter on the roof, you looked at the scarf around his neck and reflected on his words. Seizing a surge of bravery, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a warm embrace.

Negan was a lot of things, but he definitely wasn’t a man who could easily be caught off guard. However, this time he went completely still. Luckily he was also a man who could quickly adapt to any situation.

“So do I get to grab your ass now or what?” he goaded. When you didn’t answer, he looked down at you, perplexed by your behavior. A bout of thunder rumbled as he awkwardly rested a hand on your back.

Before things got weird, you pulled away. “I’m going to sleep.” You adjusted your backpack and lay down, resting your head on top. “Let me know if the stiches start hurting.”

“I’ll make sure to bitch super loud.”

In a matter of seconds, you were asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very happy with this one. It's been one I've been really looking forward to writing.


	13. The Line

****

You woke with a ragged gasp. Bolting upright, you coughed and hacked as you desperately tried to get air into your lungs. Your heart rammed against your chest as fast as a hummingbird’s wings and panic surged through your every nerve. In such a panicked state, the last thing you wanted to hear was laughter.

Still choking, you looked to Negan, who seemed content to just snicker until the cows came home.

You viciously rubbed your nose, trying to rid the pressure from where he had pinched it shut. “Who wakes someone up like that?” you demanded

“Someone with an impeccable sense of humor.” He touched his thumb and pointer finger together in an ‘okay’ sign.

You opened your mouth, about to tell him exactly what he could go do with himself, but you balked. In your oxygen deprived state you had forgotten who you were talking to you.

“Say it.”

You looked to Negan, confusion painted on your face. “Excuse me?”

Negan crossed one ankle over the other and rested his hands behind his head. He shrugged. “You clearly want to say something, but you’re too chickenshit to spit it out. Just say it.”

“Go fuck yourself.” As soon as the words fell from your lips you slapped your hands over your mouth as if you could shove them back inside. He had beaten a man to death for simply asking if it was a good idea to take you in. You had just signed your death warrant.

Rather than authorize your execution, Negan only chuckled. “Shit, are you high?” He took your arm and pushed up your sleeve, hunting for fresh track marks. “I only kill people to make a point, to put people in their place.” He let you rip your arm away and looked down at you. “I thought you understood it was all about order and respect. Calm down.”

You blew air from your lips. “And telling you to go fuck yourself isn’t disrespectful?”

Negan stretched his arms back behind his head with a satisfied groan. “’No, because I know you don’t mean it.”

You leaned away and your eyes narrowed. “You’re one cocky son of a bitch, you know that?”

Negan’s eyebrow arched. “You’re just figuring this out now?”

You faced forward. “No, I didn’t mean it,” you muttered in defeat, kicking at a branch with your heel. You stared at your shoes, your mind blank. Suddenly, you blurted out, “What were you like before this?”

If there was a time to unwrap the mystery, it was now.

It was quick, so much so that you weren’t quite sure if it had happened – but Negan glanced at the nasty bat that sat at his side.  He smiled, although there was no humor behind it.

“A real piece of shit.”

You deflated. So you had been wrong. This entire time you had been hopelessly clinging on to a fruitless fantasy.

“Was it really that bad?”

Negan scratched his cheek. “You ever watched A Christmas Story?”

You scoffed. “You’re insulting me.”

“Remember that freaky ass ginger kid with the midget sidekick that would chase Ralphie and the kids on their way to school?”

Although you probably shouldn’t have, you smiled. “He wasn’t a midget, but yeah. I do.”

“I made that skid mark look like bum fucking Mother Teresa when I was in school.”

“You were a bully then?”

Negan squinted, as if he were trying to recall something that was just out of reach. “There was this kid…Thaddeus. You have a name like that and the laws of nature demand that you get the shit beaten out of you.” He held out his arms for reference. “Real big kid, too. I ended up hog tying him and leaving him in the boy’s bathroom.”

“And then you went on to work with kids?” you couldn’t mask the horror in your voice.

“Didn’t want kids going around hog tying people and I didn’t want kids that were weak enough to let themselves be hogtied.” Negan looked at the drying blood that pooled around him. “I was built for this shit.”

You rubbed your forehead. Every time you thought you had Negan figured out, he only became more complicated. Logically, no one was purely good – but there were definitely good guys and bad guys.

“I have a question.”

You jumped. “Yeah?”

“Why do you look like you just got reamed in the asshole?”

Scrunching your nose in disgust, you looked away. At first you weren’t going to answer, but the silence weighed heavily in the air and you weren’t sure how long you could sit there just twiddling your thumbs. “I’m trying to justify liking you.”

Negan only looked bemused. “What the shit?”

You hesitated as you tried to find the right words. “You’re basically the closest thing I’ve had to a best friend since my actual one died.”

Negan touched his chest. “Me? Jesus, that’s sad.”

You rolled your eyes. “No shit,” you mumbled. “You just make it _really_ hard sometimes.”

“Look, this is getting a little too Golden Girls for me – but if this is really getting your balls in that much of a twist, can you just learn to accept the whole package?”

“What, that you’re a wad?”

“And a handsome one, at that,” Negan answered with a cheeky grin.

Before you could answer, there was a shout.

“You two still up there?” For the first time Simon’s voice was music to your ears.

Negan’s grin stretched even wider. “Simon, I thought you forgot all about us! Did you and your tiny brain find a way to get us out of here?”

~*~

After Simon and the rest of the group were able to dislodge the tree with a set of sturdy chains and horsepower, the run went smoothly. You worked until the sun set and the cicadas began their late summer song. You all had bumps and bruises, but watching the supplies unload at the Sanctuary gave you immense satisfaction. Although you didn’t know it at the time, your business wasn’t the only thing that was about to change.

You turned when you felt a sharp tap on your shoulder. Aside from a cut on his lip, Simon had gone unscathed from your run-in with the walkers. Eyes trained at the ground and hands on his hips, Simon huffed. Humility was not something that came easy to him.

“I’m aware that you covered my ass out there.” He looked up at the sky. “And that I’ve been hard to deal with-”

You smiled. “You’re welcome.”

With a curt nod, Simon retreated. His voice echoed off the concrete as he directed the off-loading crew.

Negan watched as Simon stalked off. “I think you made a friend.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you replied coolly. “I’ve definitely lost an enemy.”

Negan examined his palm. “Can’t even properly hold Lucille with this. People will start to think they can get away with shit.” He shook his head before he looked to you. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve made your position clear and your inability to swing a bat for a week or two won’t make much of a difference.”

There was a pensive gleam in Negan’s eyes, although you weren’t sure if it was because of the problem at hand or something else. Running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, he smiled. “We cleared that plant of walkers. Do you think that would make a good outpost?”

Talking with Negan was like walking on thin ice in front of a firing squad; you never knew if he was putting you through a test - if there was a specific answer that he wanted. One wrong move could cost you your life, but so far your brazenness had kept you alive, and Negan didn’t like to be played for a fool. So, you decided to give your honest opinion.

“If you get the right guy to run it, yeah. I think it’s well fortified and at a manageable distance.”

“Now, that is just so nice to hear because it just so happens that the plant is close to another settlement that is a part of our trade network.”  He opened an arm. “You’re just the gift that keeps on giving. Now go hang your boots up for a few days. You look like shit.”

You rubbed your stiff neck. “I feel like shit…but just give me a day. We have a lot to do and I’m not just going to let all of this stuff sit, especially after you almost got body slammed by a tree.”

Negan’s scoffed. “I’d blow myself before I get killed by a plant.”

You touched your fingers to your lips and looked away. Negan was a tough pill to swallow, but he sure was funny. However, you didn’t want to encourage him.  You held up your palm. “Make sure to keep the cut dry and put a bandage on it, okay? I’d go see the doctor.”

Negan snorted and straightened his belt. “Fuck that guy. He’s not the first face I want to come home to.”

“Well, I’m going to take a shower and pass out.” You gave a mock, two finger salute.

“I’ll walk with you.” With Lucille over his shoulder, he casually strode by you. It was then that the second change occurred. Without any show, he placed a hand on your upper back. He had done so before, but never had it lingered.

“You don’t have to,” you insisted, following him into the Sanctuary. You decided not to comment on the hand that was so gently guiding you through the factory. It was uncharacteristic and weird.

“Uh, yeah I do. I’m your bestest friend in the entire universe and all of space and time.”

You stepped around a kneeling mother of two, laughing softly. “Those are a lot of words I didn’t say.”

“It was implied in your tone.”

Stepping up to your door, you spun around. “Obviously. My mistake.”  You reached blindly for the doorknob. “Thank you for walking me home.”

Negan held his tongue between his teeth. “You really see this as home?”

You opened the door and stepped inside. “Goodnight.” You went to close the door, but Negan jammed Lucille in the doorframe. He allowed half of his body to slide into your room.

“If we are going to do this Golden Girls thing, I’m Dorothy. And I’m not eating any cheesecake.”

And he was gone.

Gently, you closed the door. Resting your forehead against the cold metal, you smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...was a bitch to write. The mixture of a slow burn while having Negan stay in character during bonding is hard. I re-wrote this probably a dozen times. I'm sorry it's not long. I don't have the strength. Characterization is just obscenely important to me :/
> 
>   
>  [](http://www.dazzlejunction.com/generators/image-generator.php)   
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> 


	14. A Pal and a Confidant

You walked across the grassy fields of the Hilltop, carefully observing the poppy fields. It had been three months since the seeds had been planted and the last of the strawberry red petals shined in the sun. You watched as one caught in the wind, twirling and swirling in the breeze. You took a deep breath, savoring the sweet summer air.

Negan squatted down next to the flowers. Gently, he brushed his finger against one of the fat green seed pods. He allowed the thick, milky sap to ooze onto his finger. “I didn’t know that opium looked like a load.” He flapped his hand, flicking the sap off before he stood up. He looked to you. “And you knowingly shot this into your bloodstream?”

“Go to hell.” Although your words were harsh, there was a small smile on your face as you continued to walk the plots. Once telling the big bad boss of the Saviors off had you quaking in your boots, but now…

Negan briefly clapped a hand on your shoulder as he walked by. “See you there, sweetheart.” With a taunting smirk, he pulled away.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to give Gregory a big ol’ kiss on that shiny dome of his.” He leaned over your shoulder and watched as your comrades loaded your supplies. “They’re looking a little light and I just need to remind him who’s actually the big kahuna.” He slapped a hand to his cheek. “Gee, who is that, by the way?”

You pursed your lips and looked straight ahead. “My best friend,” you chanted flatly.

“That is a well that will never go dry.” With a satisfied grin, Negan left for the Barrington House.

Ever since you had admitted to Negan that he was your best friend, he had refused to let you live it down. He had used every opportunity to throw it in your face and fluster you. By the end of the next day every single soul in the Sanctuary had been loudly informed about your social standing several times. At first it was embarrassing, especially around a group of people who were far from sentimental. However, it didn’t take you long to overcome your initial shame.

What Negan was doing was exactly why you liked him so much, and you found yourself liking him more every day. You had taken his words to heart about accepting the whole package and shockingly, accepting the savage side, the side that could drop a boulder on a friend, was much easier than denial and desperate justification.

Your eyes followed the workers’ hands as they slid their knives up the seed pods before scraping the sap off with long, flat spatulas. A boy that could be no older than ten plopped the goop into bricks. His movements were robotic and his eyes were dull and clouded. A clear sheen of sweat dripped from his brow as he worked.

Guilt began to rack through you. It quickly became too much – you couldn’t take it. You itched for a hit, to slip into sweet oblivion, but that was no longer an option. You had to learn to cope another way. Blood rushed to your ears as you scanned the Hilltop, desperately looking for a place of solace. Was your heartbeat always so loud?

Finally, your eyes landed on the pompous mansion and you took off. Flying across the yard, you dodged and weaved through any Savior and Hilltop resident that stood in your way. Pushing open the front doors, you clomped up the stairs two at a time and busted into Gregory’s office. Pressing you back against the wall, you slid down onto the floor and put a hand over your mouth. You released a shaky breath and closed your eyes.

“We’re in a meeting!” Gregory huffed, doing his best to sound authoritative, but he failed to hide the tremor in his voice.

Negan leaned forward, comfortable in Gregory’s chair.  He gently placed Lucille on the desk, her barbed teeth shined in the sunlight. “Gregory, I’m getting a little nervous about my health.”

Gregory’s brow knitted together. “What?”

Negan tapped his ear. “I think my hearing might be going because I thought I just heard you disrespect one of my men and I just can’t imagine you doing something so… _unimaginably_ stupid.”

Gregory immediately raised his hands. “Oh, no! I meant no disrespect!”

Negan’s eyes almost rolled into the back of his head. “Get out. You’re lucky I have more important things to do.”

Gregory didn’t need to be told twice. He was across the room and out the door in three strides.

The room was quiet except for the sound of heavy footsteps, but you didn’t look up until your foot was lightly kicked. Taking your hands away, you watched as Negan slid down onto the floor next to you. With one leg stretched out, Negan brought the other up and rested his wrist on his knee. He set Lucille at his side.

“From Dorothy to Rose, what’s got your panties in such a twist?”

You lightly shoved him. “I’m not Rose.”  When he didn’t reply, you got more defensive. “I’m _not_. If I’m anyone, I’m Sophia. I have a mysterious past and can sometimes be delusional.” You looked to the window. “They have some kid harvesting opium.”

“See, this is why you’re Rose. You’re too sweet for your own good. Now’s not the time to be growing a conscious.” Negan got to his feet and stretched out a hand. “Now grow a set of nads or I’m going to hurl.” He pulled you to your feet and looked to Gregory’s desk. “God, that guy is such a pussy.”

“Just be glad that he doesn’t question your authority,” you said as Negan grabbed Lucille and headed out the door. “A strong, smart leader could really be a thorn in your side and would definitely be bad for business.”

Negan threw an arm around your shoulder as you descended the stairs. “I still miss that sense of excitement you get when you crush someone who actually puts up a fight.” He turned to you. “You know, the kind that really gets your dick hard.”

You lifted your hand, allowing it to hover as you debated your next move. Throwing caution to the wind, you reached up to your shoulder and threaded your fingers with his. “Just be careful what you wish for.”

Negan eyed your entwined fingers as you walked out onto the grass. Before he could make a comment, a Savior came jogging over.

“Negan, sir – it looks like their part is going to be below quota.”

Negan took his hand from yours. “I guess we’ll just have to remind them how important it is to live up to our standards. We’ll take one of their people, and then send some of _our_ people over later today, when everybody has gotten nice and comfy.”

As the Savior retreated, you looked back to the harvesters. Before you could blink, you felt a sharp sting on your face. Slack-jawed, you raised a hand to your cheek. “You _slapped_ me!”

Negan put the offending hand in his pocket. “Yeah, and I’ll do it again if I see those Bambi eyes one more time while you’re looking at the enterprise.”

You rubbed your cheek. “You slapped me,” you repeated lamely, but Negan had already begun to walk away.

“It’s what friends are for, sweet girl!” he called without looking back.

You forgave him.

~*~

Later that day the Hilltop did receive guests, but they weren’t just your Saviors. Rick Grimes stood watch as his people carried baskets and buckets full of produce and supplies to the RV. His pulse was still racing from the scuffle that had broken out earlier. People, your people, had attacked Gregory, and he had to step in. The old man’s blood was still wet on his shirt.

Although he couldn’t show it, Rick was anxious. The Hilltop could be a major resource to Alexandria if they agreed to work with them. He had to remind himself that they lay in very capable hands. Maggie was negotiating with Gregory, and that girl was pure fire.

“What’s that?”

Rick followed Michonne’s narrowed eyes. A group of people were scraping a thick sap out of some sort of plant and dumping it into brick molds.

“That’s a dope factory,” a gravelly voice answered. Daryl strode over to the Poppy field and ripped a flower from the soil. He held the plant up to Rick. “See this?” He pointed to the liquid dripping from the pod. “Shit’s the main ingredient of heroin. Them opium poppies.” He tossed it on the ground and brought his boot down on top of it. “These people are garbage. We need to leave.”

“They have food, Daryl,” Rick said firmly as his friend walked past him. “And we brought back their doctor. Maggie’s going to need him.”

Daryl swept his hand over the Hilltop. “You don’t want to work with drug addicts. They ain’t trustworthy. They don’t think straight, neither.”

Rick had been a cop, he knew all too well just how difficult it was to work with drug addicts. But they had to try. “Maybe they’re just producing it. When Maggie comes back, we can talk to Gregory and we’ll work something out.”

With a grunt, Daryl nodded.  

“We’re being extorted.”

Rick, Daryl, and Michonne turned. Jesus watched sadly as more opium was packed away.

Rick stepped forward. “You’re making this for someone?”

Jesus looked at Rick, slightly amused. “Who do you think?”

“Negan has you doing this?” By the second Negan had evolved into more of a boogieman. Rick noticed that just saying his name made the people of the Hilltop anxious and that didn’t sit well with him.

A humorless smile flit across Jesus’ face. “Funny enough, it wasn’t his idea. There’s a woman, a Savior, whose idea it was. She’s in charge of it.”

Rick was suspicious. He had trouble with clashing alphas in the past and he knew that there could only be one kingpin. “He lets someone else run an operation?”

“I think he might like her,” Jesus admitted. “He’s a notorious womanizer, although he’s left her alone for the sake of professionalism. The tragedy is that I believe that she is truly a good person, but is in severe denial of who he really is.”

“God help her,” Michonne muttered.

Rick raised a placating hand.  “We might be able to use this to our advantage if the situation calls for it.” He looked to Jesus. “Thank you.”

Jesus nodded. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *turns up the heat to medium high*


	15. In Walked Luck

Smoke hung heavy in the air and raucous laughter reverberated off the walls. Negan poured himself another splash of Pasión Azteca tequila and popped a fresh cigar in his mouth. He couldn’t help but think of you as the $3.5 million drink swirled in his glass. You had shown up at his doorstep, sopping wet with Simon ready to blow your brains out with a multi-million dollar bottle of liquor and a lucrative business opportunity. You were really something else.

You also had a really rocking ass, but that was tragically off limits.

Simon threw his cards down. “Son of a bitch! I fold.”

“Me too,” Gavin sighed.

With a heavy sigh, Negan tapped the edge of his cards against the table before he grinned. He revealed his hand.

Simon bolted upward, knocking over his glass as he stormed to the other side of the room. Negan only laughed harder as he gathered his winnings, pushing aside his pair of 7s. “Pull at your hair any harder Simon and you’ll go bald.”

Simon only shook his head and waved Negan’s words away, too frustrated to speak.

Negan winced. “Well, I’m starting to feel like a real asshole because I am really cleaning you two out.” He looked over his shoulder. “Frankie, come here, sweetie.” His voice dripped with charm as he reached out a hand. The lithe red head rose from her seat, her high heels clicking on the ground as she crossed the room. She kept her eyes downcast and took Negan’s outstretched hand. He brought her onto his lap. “Would you be okay with giving one of these guys a good old smooch if they win the next hand?”

Before she could say no, there was a knock at the door.

“Well, go get it!” Negan demanded, causing the men to jump to their feet. Gavin was the first to reach the door. “Well, look at you.” Negan smiled as a pretty young woman stepped into the room. He gently nudged Frankie away. “What on God’s green earth can I do for you?”

The woman didn’t answer right away. She stared silently at Negan’s feet with one arm across her chest. “I’m Aaron’s girlfriend,” she finally murmured.

Negan took a step forward. “I can’t really hear you, sweetheart. Did you say Aaron?”

Simon spoke up. “I think she’s talking about that pissant you ironed a couple months ago.”

Negan’s eyebrows rose. “Oh! Well, isn’t that unfortunate for you.” When the girl didn’t reply, his eyes landed on her hand. “Shit!” he swore just as the girl reached for a small revolver.

Before the girl could raise her hand, there was a gunshot. Amber screamed in horror as the girl fell to the ground. Blood quickly began to pool around her hair, soaking into the carpet.

Negan’s neck flushed with rage. “Oh, _hell no_!” he shouted, raising Lucille over his head and crashing it down onto the girl’s skull. “You come into _my_ house and try to kill _me_?” Each hit was harder and more brutal than the next, causing Amber to cry. Hunks of bone flew through the air and brain matter splattered the walls as Negan bashed in the head of his would be assassin. The ceiling soon became a sick version of a Jackson Pollock painting. Finally, his face speckled with blood and the girl’s head nothing but soup, he stood back. He looked to Simon, who was watching him emotionlessly. “Remind me to blow you later.”

His second in command simply nodded.

~*~

You were sitting on the floor reading when you were told the news.

“Come in,” you said absentmindedly when there was a knock on your door. Looking up, your book fell limply from your hands.

“You should see the other guy,” Negan drawled, leaning against the doorway.

You wordlessly got to your feet and took him by the wrist.

“Whoa, there. Do you need to see a man about a horse, because you’re looking at me really weird.” Negan let you gently pull him into your room. Closing the door, you turned around and got a good look at him.

There were splatters of blood and clumps of God knows what all over his shirt and jacket. Streaks of red even stained his face and hair. You covered your mouth with your hands as every muscle in your body went rigid. It had happened again. You should have been there. You should have _helped him_.

“Holy shit, it’s not mine,” Negan explained as you refused to speak. “Simon capped her before she could take her shot.”

You stepped forward and buried yourself in his chest, not caring about the blood or how much Negan was going to berate you for your physical affection. Instead, you focused on the beat of his heart.

“Again, do I or do I not grab your ass?” he taunted as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Shut up,” you snapped, pulling away slightly so you could wipe the blood from his face with your sleeve, only to be batted away.

“Hey, I didn’t come here to be coddled. You’re not my mom. I just thought you should know that the most important person in your life almost died.”

You nervously chewed your lip, acutely aware of how close you were. “Well, Sophia is technically Dorothy’s mom if we’re still going with the Golden Girls metaphor. “You heard Negan’s chuckle rumble in his chest and it made you smile. Your grin quickly turned into a gape when he buried his nose in your hair.

“Negan, are you in here?” A man with long hair hovered outside your door.

Negan looked over his shoulder. “Jared, I will cut off your prick and shove it down your throat if you don’t leave, and that’s _if_ I can find it!”

Knowing that he was two seconds from losing any chance at having children, Jared high tailed it out of there.

It was ridiculous, how the threat of emasculation was what finally tore down your barrier and quelled your nerves. “Negan?”

“God, that guy needs to get a damn haircut. I swear, he is going to grow a pu-”

Looking up, you gently took his face in your hands. Negan was a good head taller than you, and you had to go on tip toe to touch your lips to his. If he was surprised he didn’t show it, for he had his arms around you and against the wall in the blink of an eye.

You felt a wave of helpless surge through your body as he held you. The ferocity in which he kissed you, nipped at your lip and raked his hands through your hair sucked the life out of you and left you limp. You gripped at his shirt, knotting the material with your fists as you attacked his neck, prompting a small groan from him. His stubble felt good on your skin and when you felt his lips on your pulse, you sighed.

 _He could have died_. That was the thought that ran through your mind as you kissed your friend, and it only made you pull him closer.

Suddenly, Negan took you by the chin. His hazel eyes, which were usually alive and electric, were hooded and intense. “Don’t ever let another man touch you like this or I will kill him,” he whispered.

You only kissed him and you felt his smile. “I don’t want to see your wives.”

“Balls, you’ve known about that this whole time?” When you nodded, Negan leaned back and eyed you. “ _Man_ , you’re really cool.”

You pat his chest. “Well, don’t think I’m happy about it. I just…have to begrudgingly ‘accept the whole package.’”

Negan let out a sinful groan. “You are in a class of your own.” Grinning like a fiend, he took a long overdue, firm grip of your ass. “God bless America,” he breathed before descending into another aggressive lip lock.

You reluctantly pulled away. Picking a glob of guts off his shoulder, you smiled. “You should take a shower and do some laundry.”

 “Are you shittin’ me? After four months of window shopping, you put up the closed sign the second I get the cash?”

You shrugged. “Stone cold bitch, right?”

Negan stepped out into the hallway, grabbing Lucille as he went. With a lopsided grin, he told you, “When I tug it, I promise I’ll think of you.”

“Same.” You closed the door on Negan’s dopey face.

“Holy shit,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short as balls, but a lot happened. I also made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/213ylnekos7uay75n5agg6d3q/playlist/2GqB2ypIcVHSTSksMKjgLP?si=J3FxcKxvT5K_9MzrFG4LIQ) for myself that goes with this story. 
> 
> Oh, I'm also on [tumblr](https://dennhomchikn.tumblr.com/).


	16. Sympathy for the Devil

As a recovering drug addict, it was obscenely ridiculous for you to be driving down an empty road with a few grams of heroin left in your bag, just itching to be shot into your bloodstream. However, this was the end of the world and you had to fight for every scrap of food and every sip of water that kept you alive. The old rules were a thing of the past and you had to do anything that kept yourself breathing.

You and Dwight had been sent out on the first heroin run and had been on the road for two days. Already the flatbed of your pickup truck was filled with canned goods, water, and even weapons. People had given up _protection_ for drugs. Not a single bullet or drop of blood had come from either of you, and you were just under 20 miles from the Sanctuary, which meant that you were within radio distance.

Dwight picked up the two way radio, making sure to keep one hand on the wheel. “We’re about out. I think we’re going to head back and see if we can push the rest on our way.” There was a beep as he let go of the button. The response was almost immediate.

“See, I _knew_ you two would kick ass!” Negan’s voice was static-y as he shouted into the speaker. “Come on back and we can talk shop. Now how much are we hauling?”

You took the radio from Dwight. “You’re gonna need a bigger truck.”

There was more static as Negan laughed. “Now you’re just whispering sweet nothings into my ear, sweet girl.”

Your cheeks dusted a light pink as you felt Dwight’s eyes briefly fall on you, and you were acutely aware of their scorn. It had been four days since you had first kissed Negan and it had been far from a one-time occurrence. The sudden outburst of emotion had spurred a romance between you and your fearless leader and it was both overwhelmingly exciting and bizarre. You quickly learned that Negan had invented PDA; he had absolutely no qualms with pouncing on you in the hallways. But for how tarnished his reputation was and how roaming his hands were, he never did anything without your permission.

You remembered your first day at the Sanctuary, when he showed you the rapist who had been condemned to the walkers’ yard and how disgusted Negan had been. It was confusing, how someone could be so adamantly against something while coercing five women to marry him.

You had decided to focus on his soft touches.

The part that had truly shocked you was the reaction of your peers. Suddenly there was an air of fear around you. Conversations would hush when you walked into a room and eyes were adverted when your gaze shifted.  Evidently, being the object of Negan’s affection put you in a place of authority. If anything happened to you, Negan would be furious, and no one wanted to step on your toes.

But what had changed the most was Dwight’s attitude towards you.

You slammed the radio onto your thigh. “Okay. _What_ is your problem?”

Dwight looked back at the road. “Nothing,” he muttered.

You barked. “No. You have been glaring at me like I pissed in your cereal. Either knock it off or tell me.”

The Savior’s grip on the wheel tightened. “He’s a monster.” Dwight’s voice was dark.

One of your hands clenched into a fist. “You don’t know him.”

With a screech, Dwight stomped on the break, sending you flying against your seatbelt. He turned to you and you immediately shrank. There was a fire in the man’s eyes that you had never seen before. “ _I_ don’t know him? You’ve only been here a few months and you think you know Negan? That man _is the_ _devil_.”

A need to protect your more-than-friend was overwhelming and Dwight’s words made you grind your teeth. “Why, because he kills people?  Just because he’s more…flamboyant about it-”

“He likes it.”

At that, you had no justification.

“He took my wife.”

It was as if the breath had been taken out of you. “What?” The truck continued to hum idly as Dwight gathered the strength to talk.

His words started off slow. “My wife's sister, Tina…she was diabetic. Obviously her insulin was hard to come by and it cost a lot of points. She ran out and Negan gave the option of marriage. We decided that running away would be a better option.”

You blinked. “That’s why he burned you.”

“I’d be dead if my wife hadn’t offered to marry him in Tina’s place.”

You turned and looked out the window. “Let’s go home.”

“So you’re just going to sweep this under the rug?”  Dwight’s voice had raised in volume and ferocity.

“Drive!”

You fell into an uncomfortable silence.

~*~

Negan and several cronies were outside waiting for your return. It took everything in you not to jump out of the truck like a bat out of hell, but you were able to maintain your composer and slid out onto the tarmac.

“Well, tickle my pickle!” Negan boomed as he crossed the yard. “That is one serious haul!” He leaned over to examine the goods and looked to you. He sent you a charming smile. “Did you find it?”

Dwight and his accusations melted away at Negan’s toothy grin. You sent one back. “Yes, I did.” You stepped onto one of the back tires and began to rummage through the supplies. You felt a pair of hands take a firm hold of your waist. Negan didn’t want you to fall.

It took you a minute to find what you were looking for, so you felt triumphant when your fingers finally wrapped around a jar of apple butter. “I got it!” You hopped down and handed over the jar. “I doubt it’s good.”

Securing Lucille under his armpit, Negan unscrewed the top and smelled the jam. With a gag, he closed it. “It smells like ballsack.”

You held your hands up. “I told you. I don’t know why you want it so badly. It’s a perishable. I’ll keep looking for it, but I doubt I’ll find something that’s edible.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you to his chest. “Because I’m a Virginia boy. I’d blow Dwight here for some soft serve from Carl’s Ice Cream.”

If Dwight heard Negan, he ignored him as he continued to unload the truck.

Negan pressed a kiss to the burned area of your face. Although you couldn’t feel it, your heart fluttered. “How can you stand it?” you questioned.

“You’re like a goddamn toasted marshmallow.” He lifted your chin, looking sly. “Everyone who’s old enough to jackoff knows those are the best kind.”

You pressed your fingers to his lips. “How many women have you kissed today?”

At this, Negan’s eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth quirked upward. He looked impressed by your awareness of the situation. “None as pretty as you.” When you still looked unimpressed, he huffed. “Or smart? Jesus.”

“Smooth.” You smiled smally before touching your lips to his. Early on you had decided that Negan had to work for affection. Sure, you could accept the whole package, but you weren’t going to easily be like one of his wives - just another woman, an option he could choose like an outfit off a coatrack. 

You slid your arms underneath his jacket and wrapped them around his chest. He was warm from the sun and heavy material. Somehow Negan always managed to smell good and it only made you pull him closer.

Negan sighed into your mouth. “Shit. No one’s kissed me like this in years.” He squeezed your hips.

“You mean I’m doing it on my own free will?”

Negan’s eyebrows shot up as he held you back. “Excuse me?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you desperately racked your brain for a cover. You ran your fingers through his hair, touching the hint of grey. “I just mean that a lot of women aren’t always so confident in their decisions.” You waited anxiously as Negan analyzed you, clearly still suspicious. If he didn’t believe you, he didn’t give any indication.

He ran his knuckles down your cheek. “Calm down, sweetheart.”

“Negan!”

You all turned at the sound of Simon’s roar. With a screech Simon pulled through the gate and jumped out of the van just seconds after it stopped moving. Slamming the driver’s side door shut, he stormed over to you.

Although Negan stepped away, he kept a hand on the small on your back. “What’s going on?”

“My men are gone!” Simon’s face was beet red as he shouted. “They’re dead! Every single one at the satellite outpost!” He formed his hand into a gun and touched it to his temple. “Fucking shot in their sleep!”

You heard the leather of Negan’s glove squeak as his grip on Lucille tightened, but it was the only thing that gave away his fury. “Get Gavin and Regina and go to the conference room. We’ll talk in ten minutes and if you get there after me, you’re late.” He looked at Dwight. "Dwight, follow Simon."

As Simon rushed off, you spoke. “Who would have the guts to make a move like that?” You were truly stunned and from the looks of things, so was Negan. “Certainly not Gregory.”

Negan ran a hand down his face. “Guy’s busy diddling kids or running around in some clothes that make him invisible.”

As stressful as the situation was, you couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on your face. “Hans Christian Anderson.” For a moment you had forgotten just how well-read Negan was and your attraction for him surged. Placing a gentle hand on his cheek, you left a soft kiss to his jawbone.

He pulled you to his side. “You’re coming. It’s a real dick disco in there and sometimes I think it becomes more about who is right than an open discourse about the most effective action.”

“Do you think they’ll be apprehensive?”

Negan snorted. “Perhaps you haven’t seen how things work around here…” he let his sentence trail off as the snarls of the walkers wafted into the air. Stepping aside, he opened the door to the Sanctuary for you. “They won’t even look at you wrong, now that they know we suck face.” He followed you inside, triumphant by your obvious embarrassment.

~*~

As you expected, the entire council was present and accounted for and as Negan said, none of the members batted an eyelash at your presence. Silently taking the furthest seat from Negan, you waited patiently for him to settle at the head of the table. Rather than sit, Negan placed Lucille on the table and gripped its edge with both hands. For a few seconds he stood there with his head bowed.

“I can’t think of an easy way to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out.” Negan looked up, making sure to catch the eye of each Savior. “Simon has informed me that someone has mercilessly taken the lives of some of our own.”

Regina was the first to speak. She jerked forward and slapped her palm on the table in fury. “Who?”

Negan sighed and shook his head. “We don’t know. But whoever it was, they’re cowards. Everyone was slaughtered in their sleep. They couldn’t even face us like _men!_ ” His shout echoed off the walls. “Now, we’re here to figure out who these people are and how we’re going to make them pay.”

“Well, how we’re going to deal with them isn’t really a debate, is it?” Simon asked. He leaned forward. “They murdered _my_ men! So we kill every last one of these pricks!”

“You know that’s not how we do things here, Simon,” Negan said firmly.

You shifted in your seat. “These people killed a whole outpost of Saviors without detection. We could use them.”

Negan smiled. “That’s my girl!” He looked at Simon. “We make these pricks piss their pants. When they go to sleep, I want them to see this handsome face in their nightmares. When people are scared, they do what you want. It’s basic Machiavellian politics.”

You covered your mouth and looked at your lap, trying to hide your blatant admiration. Whether your comrades knew about Machiavelli and _The Prince_ , you didn’t know, but Negan certainly did.

Simon sucked at his teeth, clearly biting back words. “I’m just…concerned.” Simon’s words were slow and well thought out. He knew he was dancing with the devil by questioning Negan’s judgment so blatantly. “This was a pretty fearless move.”

Negan grinned. “Oh, Simon,” Negan said softly, “everyone’s afraid of something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this turned out okay. I got a smidge discouraged because so many trashy/terrible stories in this fandom are getting 3x the attention than this and I felt like I was doing something wrong. It's so menial and I usually never care, but I was just a little bitch for five minutes.
> 
> Christ, this is going to be long. We haven't even gotten to the heart of the plot yet. I hope I don't lose you all.


	17. The Emperor's New Clothes

Dwight had been unusually quiet throughout the meeting, opting to stare listlessly at the tabletop. When he finally did speak, he was hesitant.

“I think…I might know who is behind this.”

Negan smiled. “Dwighty, boy! Are you going to save the day and sail us out of this shit storm?”

Dwight tapped his fingers against the wood, only sparing Negan a fleeting glance. “When I left with Sherry and Tina, we ran into some guy. He said he was part of a community that still lived like people used to.”

Negan leaned back and stroked his chin. “Did you tell him about us?”

“Yes.”

“I’m assuming that it wasn’t a raving review. Did you give us a big old, splatty tomato?” Negan spread his fingers out and blew a raspberry.

It was jarringly obvious Dwight was uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat. “It was an obvious mistake.”

Negan was smiling. “Yeah, I’m sure it was,” he said quietly, his voice velvet. Negan leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “So, you kidnap a guy, which would obviously piss anyone off.” He turned to the rest of you and held out his hands in an, _‘am I right?’_ shrug. “Then you trash talk us. Well, I believe we have our prime suspect and Dwight, I think you being a little bitch might have actually helped us. Did he say where they were?”

“No.”

Negan’s words from before rang in your head. “ _The Emperor's New Clothes_ ,” you said. You were met with a confused glare from every council member except Negan, whose smile only widened.

“It’s a book about an emperor who is tricked into thinking he's wearing a cloak that turns invisible when worn by someone who’s unfit for their job, but the guy's actually just naked and his subjects are too afraid to say that he's actually strutting around with his schlong out,” Negan explained without taking his eyes off you. “I believe it’s being suggested that the key to our problem _is_ Gregory after all.” He stared out into space dreamily. “Hot damn.”

“What about Ezekiel?” Regina asked. “The man is practically senile.”

Negan raised an eyebrow. “While he might be a total nut bag, the guy knows how to lead his people.  He’s also not stupid enough to pull such a stunt. Plus, he would have gone himself. Only a coward hires outside help to do his dirty work.” Negan sighed. “This has creepy grandpa written all over it.” He turned to Simon. “Go to the Hilltop and put the fear of God in him. He’ll squeal faster than a well-paid whore. Kill someone if you have to. Set an example.”

“All right, then.” Simon gave a firm nod and a slick grin.

With the meeting adjourned, you pushed yourself away from the table and stood up. You had been in the wastelands for two days and you were dirty and exhausted. A shower and a long nap sounded absolutely heavenly to you and you weren’t going to wait another second to relax.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” An arm hooked around your waist and you were yanked backwards. Suddenly you were off your feet and sitting on the edge of the table. Negan stood between your legs, looking like the king of mischief.

“What are you up to?” you asked suspiciously.

“Just being a goddamn horndog,” he admitted with a pump of the eyebrows and an up-to-no-good grin. He pulled you forward and your bodies meshed together. Smashing Lucille behind you, Negan had trapped you in place. “I’m on the hook with a girl I work with and I have to just suck it up until everyone else hauls ass? I mean, _shit_.” Weaving his fingers into your hair, he kissed you languidly.

Whatever your reservations were, they flew out of the window as you cupped Negan’s face and pulled him closer, making him hum. Slowly, you leaned a few inches back. The leader of the Saviors needed no encouragement, and you immediately felt his weight as he followed you.

“You really don’t seem that choked up,” you observed between kisses.

“There’s nothing that kills a boner like a big ol’ dose of murder. I’m trying to put it in the back of my mind,” he explained, lifting your chin and lightly biting the soft underside of your jaw.

Things were getting hot and heavy at an almost alarming rate. With a quiet noise of protest, you placed your hands on his chest and gently pushed him back. Negan immediately retreated, as he always did, and you questioned every bad thing you had ever been told about him, as _you_ always did.   

Swallowing, you closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his. “Do you really think killing someone is the best way to set an example?”

Negan answered with a dismissive laugh. “Were you not using your listening ears back there? I want that geezer to need a new pair of undies every time I cross his mind. I want him to beg me to kiss my ass.”

“‘It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both,’” you recited the Italian political theorist’s words.

“ _Fuck._ ” Negan appeared to be two steps from devouring you.

“It’s not my place to tell you how to run your empire, but as someone who shares a common interest in knowledge-” you stopped, afraid that you were over stepping your boundaries.

Negan opened his arms. “Well, don’t leave me hanging!”

You set your hands firmly on Negan’s shoulders, an action that made his mouth turn into an over exaggerated pout. “Being feared is Machiavellian, but he warned that you must never be so to the point of hatred. Fear should never be excessive because it will become a danger to the Saviors and most of all, a danger to you. You need to be respected, but contempt will be your downfall.”

Negan’s eyes zoomed around your face as his ever present smirk played on his lips. He stood relaxed as he gazed down at you, sizing you up. The silence was deafening.

“You get to sit here,” he finally declared, whacking Lucille against Gavin’s spot at the table.

You waved your hands. “No, no, I can’t-”

Negan leaned forward, the pleasant look still on his face. “Try not to talk back to me. It’s really rude and I _so_ hate it.” He placed a lingering kiss to your forehead that was just as soft as his voice.

Deflating, you sighed in defeat and leaned into the affection. “Sorry.” It was easy to forget that Negan was your boss and the leader of your people while you were necking.

“Oh, you think I’m going to be mad at my girl for being worried about me?” He pulled away. “I’m going to the satellite outpost and assess the damage. I’ll be back…whenever.” He flicked his wrist and disappeared out the door.

You immediately went after him. “Negan!” you called, for he was already at the end of the hallway.

Negan turned, looking annoyingly aloof as he casually swung Lucille back and forth. Finally, he smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Do you think it’s wise to go back to a place where our men were just slaughtered? They could still be there, waiting for you. This whole thing could be a trap.” God, you could smack that shit eating grin off his face.

Negan wiggled his fingers. “Look at you, chasing me down and nipping at my heels like a lovesick puppy!” He tapped his temple. “I’m starting to think that your daddy didn’t stick it to your momma and that you’re actually made out of sugar and spice, and everything nice.” Without another word, he slinked around the corner and out of sight.

~*~

Although you were gravely concerned about Negan, a part of you was thankful that he had blown off your worries. Now you had time to take a shower and go to bed.

Opening the door to your room was much more exciting than it should have been and you felt your muscles already begin to relax as you stepped inside. Unfortunately, your celebration was short lived when you noticed the woman perched on your bed.

“Who the fuck are you?” you demanded.

The woman turned to you, her brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. “Your rational side,” she answered frankly. She stood up and quickly crossed the room, her stilettos aggressively tapping on the floor with every stride. The shoes made her hips swing and it was abundantly clear that she absolutely hated it. “Dwight told me everything you said today and all of the girls know about you, and we all collectively agree that you’re an absolute lunatic.”

Realization hit you like a bucket of cold water. “You’re one of his wives.”

“Yeah, and it’s a daily struggle not to put a gun in my mouth,” the woman said viciously, her beautiful doe eyes aflame. “The only thing that keeps me going is the few seconds I can get with my real husband, and I want to see that sociopath’s brains on the floor.”

It was the threat that brought you out of your stupor. “I am the last person you want to divulge these threats to-?”

“Sherry,” she offered curtly.  She crossed her arms. “What has he done to you?” She was staring at you, desperately trying to understand how you could be so protective of a vicious maniac.

You were quiet as you pondered her question. “Negan likes what I despise about myself.”

Sherry placed a hand on her chest and laughed. If it wasn’t so bitter, it would have been pretty. “That’s just a ploy to get into your pants.”

You shook your head, stubborn as a mule and growing increasingly frustrated. “He certainly doesn’t sound like the type of person who would jump through all those hoops when he could just impose himself.”

Sherry closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she were trying to find the strength not to literally slap some sense into you. Like you had done to Negan earlier, she placed her hands on your shoulders. “You need to understand that Negan thinks that he is a good man. He will jump through hoops, connect the dots in the most ridiculous way, to justify his actions so that he is morally right. We’re called the Saviors because he truly thinks he’s saving people. He thinks he’s helping the Hilltop. He thinks I want to be stuffed in this tight dress and sleep with him at whatever hour he chooses.”

She might as well have slapped you in the face. You could only look away, unable to maintain eye contact. You didn’t say a word.

Sensing that she was chasing windmills, Sherry reached for your door. As her fingertips brushed the doorknob, she paused. “You have the power to end this. He’s weary of all of us. Negan likes to pretend that we all want to be with him, but deep down he knows that he’s playing a game of manipulation and coercion. But you…he trusts you. Slipping him something would almost be too easy.” And she was gone.

Your mind went back to _The Emperor's New Clothes_ and the fool's obscene dedication to his convictions.

Pride always came before the fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all lovely. The last thing I expected was philosophical, political, and theological discourse from this. I think the ideas in this are interesting, but I didn't really think that anyone else would. Some have even went out and read the books mentioned in this.
> 
> It's nuts.
> 
> Thank you <3


	18. It's Just a Shot Away

“Rick Grimes,” Negan tested the name on his tongue like one would sample a bad flavor at an ice cream parlor. “No Dick Rick.” He raised a hand, silencing any reply from you. “Rick the Prick. Shit on a Stick Rick.”

“The last one didn’t work.” You gave Negan a consoling touch on the arm as you stepped over a log.

“Hey, I’m a boiling pot of emotions over here. I’m sorry my wit isn’t at 100%.” As for emphasis, Lucille’s barbs smashed against the side of a tree, violently sending chips of bark whizzing through the air, forcing you to duck.

Negan was angry. Simon had indeed put the fear of God into Gregory and the residences of the Hilltop, and it didn’t take long for them to give him the name of your new nuisance. The aloof man who had teased you had evaporated as soon as the pain in his ass was given a name and you knew that if you didn’t get him out of the Sanctuary, the first person to cross him was going to die.

So there you both were, clomping through the woods early in the morning with your breath curling above your heads. Negan needed to beat the shit out of something, get his energy out somehow, and luckily, the world was filled with the ambling punching bags.

“Calm down, Greased Lightning.”

Negan stopped and turned to you, hiking Lucille over his shoulder. “If you think it’s an insult to compare me to something that is literally described as a pussy wagon, then you’re _really_ bad at name calling.” He spun on his heel and continued his stroll, striking up a lazy whistle.

You walked in silence for a few minutes, only hearing the birds sing their morning songs and the rustle of squirrels and other unseen critters. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at your companion.

On days that he went out, Negan almost always wore your red scarf, and this morning was no different. There was a chill in the air, and the material was snug around his neck as he navigated his way through the woods. The cold brought a charming flush to his face and his eyes were bright in the rising sun.

“You got five more seconds before I start charging you.” His eyes slid to yours and he smiled knowingly.

“Shit.” You immediately looked away, embarrassed that you had been caught gawking.

Negan was beaming. “Gettin’ antsy in the pants-y?”

“You’re disgusting.” Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t glare. Instead, you offered a half smile and a scoff.

He kicked a pile of leaves. “Oh, I am _nasty_.”

You remembered how you had thought Negan looked like a member of a 1960’s greaser doo-wop group when you first met and had to bite down a laugh. “Hey, daddy-o.” 

He looked mildly surprised at the vintage lingo and the fact that you even used a term of endearment. He merely hummed in acknowledgement.

Before your conversation could continue, there was a distinct and familiar graceless shuffle that cut through the morning. The playful atmosphere immediately dissipated like a dying star as you both readied yourselves for a fight.

“It’s just one,” Negan said as he slowly pushed your gun down. You stepped back to let him smash the walker’s face when he paused. His eyes fell on you and he spun Lucille around, holding her handle first. “You,” he said with a smile.

It was stupid, really, to be intimidated by a baseball bat – but your eyes were as wide as saucers as your hands slowly crept towards the instrument. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to happen, whether the secrets of the universe were going to be revealed to you as you finally took Lucille in your hands, or if the meaning of life would suddenly become clear. Maybe you’d discover immortality.

What you found was a handle that was warm from Negan’s hands. A wave of affection for him ran through you as you flexed your fingers. You glanced at the walker, who was stumbling towards you, but still a good distance away.

“Okay, coach. How exactly do I handle this little miss?” You did a loose practice swing.

Negan slapped a hand over his heart. “I’m about two seconds from unpacking and pitching a pants tent.” He walked over to you and gripped your biceps. “One, line your feet beneath your shoulders. You look like an asshole.” He kicked your feet mercilessly until they were perfectly aligned with your shoulders. “And bend those knees – make sure there’s a little spring in your knees and hips.”

“God, there is a lot more to this than I thought.” You felt hyper aware of every inch of your body, afraid that you were going to step out of the correct position.

“Yeah, well, that’s why they pay the top guys $6,000,000 to play in the MLB. Now let’s talk about how you handle the lady. You got to treat her real nice.” He lay his hands out flat, palm side up. “Put the handle across the fingers of both hands and wrap them.” When you did so, he smiled. “Now tell her how pretty she is.”

“Shut up.”

Negan threw his head back and laughed before clapping a hand on your shoulder. “He pointed at the walker, who was now only two or three yards away. “Now, once your knuckles are lined up and Lucille is hovering over your shoulder, I want you to stare down that corpse. Look at it real mean, as if to say, ‘Say your prayers, because I’m about to _fuck-you-up!_ ’” His voice reverberated off the trees.

You leaned back, looking at Negan with mild disturbance. “You told this to kids?”

“I had two undefeated seasons. There is a goddamn method to my madness.” He looked at the walker, who was now in striking distance. “Now fuck him up, sweet girl!”

Chewing on your bottom lip, your fingers twitched as you held Lucille high above your shoulder. As the walker stumbled within striking distance, you smashed it with all of your might. You could feel its bones crunch as she connected to the walker’s cheek and chunks of flesh spiraled through the air. It seemed to fall in slow motion, and by the time it hit the ground, it was already dead.

Negan punched the air. “ _Boom!_ That’s my baby!” You were grateful when he took Lucille back. It had been stupidly nerve racking to use. You stepped back as he began to pound on the walker’s face. It wasn’t until its head looked like oatmeal that Negan was satisfied. With a final kick, he stepped back.

“Let’s go back. It’s not getting any warmer.” As you spoke, two more walkers came ambling from the brush, gurgling and jerking as they reached for you.

Negan shook his head. “Not until every single one of these bumblefuck assholes get double dead.”

Before he could raise Lucille, you shot the walkers in the head. “I have a way to calm you down.”

~*~

With a grunt, you pushed your bed away from the wall and knelt down. The smooth concrete was blemished by a single, thin crack. Digging your fingers into the seam, you pulled out a chunk of the wall.

“You little shit,” Negan breathed as you pulled out your stash of heroin and needles.

Dumping everything on your covers, you pushed your bed back and sat on the ground. “I haven’t used, but when you see a mountain of China white…” your voice trailed off.

Lucille was suddenly hovering mere millimeters from your nose and your heart leapt in your throat.  

“You’re getting a free pass because I like you, but God help you if you pull this shit again.”

You had brought Negan here to help him relax, but you had only made him angrier. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded.

He sat down next to you. “So is this going to make me into a douchebag, because I’ve seen the people who ride the addiction train and you are all really gross.”

You shook your head as you took out a tie. “No. You’re a thrill seeker, but get your kicks pretty easily. This is a one-time thing. Now, take your jacket off.”

“This must be the peer pressure they all warned me about,” he goaded as he slipped off his jacket and tossed it aside.

“You and I both know there is not a person on this earth who can make you do something you don’t want to do.” You secured the tie around his bicep in a tight knot before you took out your other supplies. You quickly dabbed the injection site with rubbing alcohol. “Start clenching and unclenching your fist. It will make it easier to find your vein.”

Negan snorted. “I teach you how to swing a bat and you’re showing me how to shoot up drugs.”

You were already placing the cotton and drugs into the spoon. Flicking on the lighter, you both watched as the powder melted into its liquid state. With a steady hand, you poked the needle into the cotton and withdrew the drug. Holding the syringe to eye level, you gave it several flicks, making sure that there were no oxygen bubbles.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “I’ll toss it if you want to stop.”

Negan narrowed his eyes. “Do you see a nametag that says pussy on my shirt?”

Leaning forward, you gave him a sloppy kiss. When you surfaced for air, you took his arm and gently stuck the needle into his vein.

The heroin's effect was immediate. Negan’s head lulled back as a dopey smile spread across his face. “Well, spank me cross eyed,” he sighed. He looked at you, his pupils the size of pinpoints. He raised his hands slowly, as if they weighed 50 pounds. “It’s like a big, warm hug.”

He was clearly on cloud nine and you were happy to see that his muscles were completely relaxed for the first time that day.

“I’m responsible.”

You cocked your head. “I’m sorry?”

Negan’s eyelids opened lazily. “Never had my guys killed off like that before. I’m the only thing that stands between everyone out there,” he vaguely motioned to your door, “and them getting blasted in the ass by No Dick.”

The drug seemed to have broken down the ruthless walls that Negan had built around him and you were left struggling for words. Unable to remember the basic mechanics of speech, you gently lowered your head onto his shoulder, but you were quickly scooped up and placed into his lap.

“Just don’t die. It’s so not cool,” Negan mumbled, his eyes closed. “Can only sail through that shit storm once.”

You wanted to press him further, but he had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Praying he was still in character during the heart to heart*
> 
> It's unfortunate because the drug was originally going to be cocaine since the story was inspired by the album 'Station to Station,' but it's next to impossible to make cocaine at home. It would have been so funny to have Negan blitzed on coke. He would be an absolute lunatic.


	19. St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre

Negan ran the heroin high for five hours, happily relieved from all of his frustration and anger as he hung in the drowsy cloud of semi-consciousness. As much as you wanted to close your eyes and fall asleep, or even ride that high with him, you needed to make sure that he didn’t hurt himself. As fun as drugs were, thousands of people died from them every day, and overdosing was just one of the many ways he could bite the dust.

Of course, you had done your best to make sure that he was given a small amount. What you were really afraid of was him choking to death. You had to make sure he was always sitting up, for if he were to lie on his back, he could easily choke on his own vomit and suffocate. It was how the great Jimi Hendrix went and you didn’t want to experience it firsthand. So you weren’t upset when you got a lap full of puke when the big bad boss finally did wake up.

Now you finally had something to hold over his head.

The Sanctuary was Negan free for a whole day as he dealt with recovery symptoms. Only you knew what was truly going on while the other higher ups were informed that he was sick. You didn’t see him until the day after, and you missed him more than you cared to admit. Life was incredibly boring without Negan.

Simon slapped a map down on the conference table. “The boss man has given me the go ahead to start planning our meet and greet with our new friends. We got some guys watching Rick the Prick and his gang. As soon as they leave as a group, we move in.”

As terrible as the Saviors were, they were still human, and a running gag had taken up steam between the council. Unfortunately for Rick, his name rhymed with a lot of offensive words. At some point you had divulged Negan’s nicknames for your foe, and it had spiraled out from there.

Behind closed doors, Rick Grimes was, “No Dick Rick,” and “Rick the Prick.” You couldn’t remember who, but someone had proposed, “Rick Makes Me Sick,” but it was agreed to be too long and too tame.

Simon circled several roads. “They don’t have a lot of options to get from their home base to the Hilltop. If we haul ass, we can get some shit set up now.”

Your heads all jerked upward when the door slammed open. Negan stepped in, looking as happy as a clam and as fit as a fiddle. “Are we working hard or hardly working?” he asked, his eyes landing on the map. He slowly stalked around the table, eyeing every person up and down, clearly trying to make everyone as uncomfortable as possible. Finally, he made it to you. “I hate you so much,” he whispered into your unburned ear before kissing your temple.

You gave him an affectionate pat on the cheek. “Nice to have you back, champ.”

“So what do you think will really spook Rick and the gang other than Simon’s face?” Negan asked, turning to the rest of the group.

“Walkers?” Gavin contributed. “String em’ up. Use them as a roadblock.”

Negan smiled. “That is fucked up my friend! Love it!” He jabbed Lucille towards Regina. “Go.”

Regina narrowed her eyes as she thought. “I’m guessing he’s self-righteous. You know, soft.” She tapped the table with her fingernail. “We could have a demonstration, show him how we do things.”

“A public execution!” Negan smacked his hand down on the table. “God _damn_ , the depravity!”

“Fire,” you said softly.

The giddiness melted from Negan’s face and he placed a hand on your back. “Opening up the bowels of hell. I think we have the holy trinity.” His thumb gently moved back and forth over your spine in soothing strokes. “When we finally nab them, I want them on their goddamn knees and we’ll have a little chat.” Negan opened an arm. “And they’ll reach their salvation. They’ll see the light.”

Before the council could reply, a young woman poked her head into the room. “They’re on the move.”

“Then we better get going,” Negan replied simply. As Simon, Regina, Dwight, and Gavin hurried out, Negan stayed behind. He gave you a reassuring rub on the back as he turned to you. “I’m well aware that your metaphorical balls are astronomical,” he explained, “but you can sit this one out.”

“Like hell I am,” you replied, although it didn’t sound as strong as you wanted it to.

“You are one badass.” Negan pressed you into his shoulder as he buried his nose in your hair. “How about you stick with me through this shindig?”

You wrapped an arm around his neck and nodded.

~*~

The promise of violence was a large motivator for the Saviors and the roadblocks were set up in less than an hour. It was now only a matter of keeping track of your prey and figuring out when you were going to pounce.

You and Negan had hung back at the Sanctuary as the crew toyed with the enemy. You would move in once they were in your hands.

“Negan, we got the RV.” Simon’s voice fizzled over the radio.

Negan held the walkie up to his lips. “Excellent!”

“Not exactly.”

Negan’s eyes narrowed and he looked to you, puzzled. “The shit does that mean?”

By the time you had caught up with the others, the sun was setting and Negan was ready to crack some skulls.

The Saviors had managed to get the RV into a small clearing in the woods, a perfect setting for the final confrontation. The Saviors had gathered into a neat semi-circle. In the middle stood Simon, who was holding a kneeling man by his collar.

Negan practically flung himself out of the car. “And just who do we have here?”

Immersing yourself with the crowd, you got your first look at the man. He was stocky and wore a khaki button up and shorts. Aside from looking utterly terrified, the poor thing had one defining feature – his hair. Although it was currently slick with sweat and sticking to his forehead, you could tell that on a good day, the guy’s mop was a perfect model of a 1970s mullet.

“My name is Eugene,” the man said in a southern drawl. Although his voice trembled, his tone was as flat as the sea on a windless day. “I take it that you are Negan.”

Negan knelt down in front of Eugene, all smiles. “That is one hell of a guess, Eugene. Good job.”

“It wasn’t a guess,” Eugene asserted. “It was a fact that I ascertained through observation and analytics. That man over there,” he looked to Simon, “could have, and I quote, ‘beat the living shit out of me,’ but he instead waited for you.”

Negan was delighted. “You are one weird dude. Do you have a damn battery pack or something? You sound like a goddamn robot!” Everybody snickered.

“I can assure you that I am in fact human.”

Negan nodded his head. “Well, that’s great because I want you to feel this.” You only had a second to brace yourself before Negan slugged Eugene in the face. The hit was hard enough to throw him to the ground and make everybody cheer. Feeling the bile rise in your throat, you turned tail and left for the RV.

Shutting the door behind you, you sat behind the kitchen table and buried your face in your hands. You couldn’t let yourself be a part of the brutal beating of a weak and defenseless man. Eugene was clearly not a fighter and not a threat. Negan was angry that he had been duped, but it was no reason to hurt people.

“Please leave,” you said when you heard the door open. You weren’t surprised in the slightest when Negan slid onto the bench next to you.

“This is the coup de grâce, baby.  What are you doing moping around here?”

You pointed to the door. “That guy’s pathetic! Taking your anger out on him is the furthest thing from a coup de grâce and I don’t want any part of it.” You let out a small grunt of protest when Negan pulled you onto his lap.

“He made us lose time and resources. Please get the stick out of your ass.”

You sighed and lay your head against his chest. Closing your eyes, you listened to the steady beat of his heart. It was interesting how so many people said he didn’t have one. “Okay,” you relented. “But I’m staying in here.”

“What a coinkydink! Me too.”

You leaned back. “What are you planning?” You eyed him suspiciously.

Negan only grinned. “Drama.”

You shook your head. “ _I_ hate you.” You turned around so that you were straddling his lap.

Negan rubbed his hands along your thighs. “Holy shit.” He didn’t waste any time. Weaving his fingers into your hair, he smashed his lips to yours in a fiery kiss.

You molded together, fitting against each other with stunning perfection. You clawed at his back as you explored the taste of him. Feeling the strength of his arms and the callouses on his fingers as he dove his hands under your shirt and dragged them down your bare back. You inhaled leather and sweat and aftershave. This was how things were supposed to be.

You broke apart at the chorus of shrill whistles. You were close enough for your lips to touch with every breath you took.

“Who the hell do you think you are, getting me to stand at more attention than a flag pole when I have to make Rick the Prick and the Scooby Gang piss themselves?” Negan breathed, although his smile indicated that he wasn’t too upset.

You leaned forward and peaked through the blinds. “It’s not going to take much.” The people who knelt on the ground were far from threatening.

Negan followed suit. “Christ. He looks like one of those rat dogs when you throw water on them because they pissed on your shoe.” He pointed to the man in a brown sheep’s skin coat. He was tall and his brown curls dripped with sweat. “ _That_ is the piece of shit that killed my guys?” He clenched his fist. “Which ones should Lucille get friendly with?”

You had come into the RV to be left out of the violence, but it looked like Negan had different ideas. “Maybe anyone who’s insubordinate.” That was fair, right?

You both turned when Simon’s voice cut through the air. “Looks like we got a full boat. Let’s meet the man.”

You slid off Negan, who hopped up and grabbed Lucille off the table. “They’re dead,” he said softly. He looked at you. “Try not to stare at my ass too much.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

With a wink, Negan burst through the door. “Pissing our pants yet?”

You retreated into the shadows and back to the bench. Peeking through the blinds, you watched as Negan finally lay into the group. You had to keep telling yourself that they deserved it, that they had snuck into one of your bases in the dead of night and killed men in their sleep. But when Negan taunted a young man who he beat so hard that his eye dropped out of its his socket, you stepped away from the window and locked yourself in the back bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I normally never describe the story behind chapter titles, hoping that readers can figure out the significance for themselves and even recognize song lyrics if they're used, but I know this one is super specific and I really want to explain this one.
> 
> The massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day is believed to be a direct product of Machiavellianism by historians, and in this story Negan is a staunch supporter of the political ideology. The rest is self-explanatory


	20. Sentiment

It was crazy how quickly your life had turned to shit. It had been a week since Negan demonstrated just how depraved he was and you hadn’t spoken to him since. As expected, he had not taken the sudden cut off from affection very well. Like a scorned puppy, he trailed after you wherever you went, goading you as best he could to get some sort of attention – but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

You weren’t angry at Negan. You had known the type of person he was when you became involved with him, but you had never before witnessed just _how_ unhinged he was. Yes, you saw him kill before, but what you saw in the woods was nothing short of sadistic lunacy. You were shell shocked, unable to understand what your feelings were. Perhaps you could have established some cognitive dissonance from what happened that night and the man he was now, but he had gone as far as taking a prisoner - Daryl. The brutality was shoved in your face whenever you stepped on that floor.

It was unfortunate, because you had just come to terms with the fact that you utterly adored him.

You hiked your sniper rifle over your shoulder. You had just finished your security shift with Fat Joey and you only had a few minutes to get ready for your first run to Alexandria.  To say you weren’t looking forward to it would be an understatement.

You began to rummage around your room for more bullets. As you reloaded, your eyes fell to your bed.

“What?” Reaching forward, you picked up a book that had certainly not been there when you left that morning. “ _Moby Dick_ ,” you read aloud, flipping to the first page. You immediately recognized the sloppy scrawl that filled the margins. It only took you a second to read the first line. “That son of a bitch,” you muttered before throwing the book back onto your bed. With a newfound energy, you charged out the door.

You were the last person to make it to the yard, and all eyes were on you as you descended the stairs.

“About time you showed up,” Negan taunted, cool as a cucumber as he leaned on Lucille.

“Shut up,” you ordered, striding up to him. Before Negan could get out another word, you slapped him across the face. The force made his head turn to the side.

Immediately you heard the sound of a dozen safeties click off, but Negan held up a hand. “Hey, let’s all put our dicks back in our pants.” He rubbed his abused cheek. “If that was meant to piss me off, it did not work.” He grinned suggestively.

You slapped your hands on both sides of his face. “No, douchebag. Now I can forgive you.”  

“Well, give daddy some sugar.”

There was a rustle as people awkwardly shuffled, shifting their weight and adjusting their guns. It was weird to watch your boss make out with anyone, and especially with so little shame.

Opening an eye, Negan took a quick glance at his men before he grabbed your backside with a devilish smirk. You immediately pulled back, but only a hair’s breath away.

“We need to go.” You moved his hand with a scornful glare, but he knew that you were amused.

Negan held his tongue between his teeth. “Mmm, you’re in trouble.” He beckoned to the rest of the Saviors. “Let’s roll out!” Taking you by the hand, he jumped into the passenger side of one of the large trucks. Pulling you onto his lap, he reached out the window and banged on the roof. The vehicles’ engines growled to life and you pulled out of the Sanctuary.

With one arm draped out the window and the other loosely wrapped around your waist, Negan slouched in his seat. It was a gorgeous day and the sunshine lit up the gold flecks in his eyes. “I’m curious,” he began, his hazel irises flicking to you.

You lightly brushed your fingers through his hair. Immediately, the words of William Arthur Ward filled your head. “‘Curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning.’”

Negan looked completely unimpressed. “That was disgusting. I think my dick actually receded back into by body.” He made a popping sound with his mouth.

Your eyes rolled to the roof. “What’s your question?”

“What did I say while I was balls deep in doperville?”

You opened your mouth, but faltered. You were unsure if Negan would be happy if he learned that he had been so vulnerable in front of you.

Negan snapped his fingers, jolting you awake. “Hey! I can read you like a book and I know I said something. So spill the beans.”

With a deep breath, you turned your focus out the window. “You were upset because you knew that you were the only thing that stood between Rick and the Saviors. You also asked me not die, and something about how you couldn’t go through it again.” You chanced a look at Negan.

With a heavy sigh, Negan closed his eyes and flopped his head against the headrest. “Fuck me running,” he grumbled. “That’s what I thought.”

You looked at Gary, who was behind the wheel. You were feeling a bit awkward to be having such a personal conversation in front of someone else, but he was smartly keeping his eyes on the road and a pair of ear buds in. You turned back to Negan. “What are you talking about?”

Negan put a hand over his eyes as he massaged his brow. “I had the absolute pleasure of living through a cliché, bumfuck, _Living in Las Vegas_ druggie trip of introspection.”

You worked your lower lip between your teeth. “What did you learn?”

Giving a final rub to his eyes, Negan answered, “That pussy palace needed to be officially disbanded.”

Your breath quickened. “Your wives are gone?”

“As soon as I stopped hurling up my goddamn insides, I made an executive decision.”

“Why?”

Negan took you by the chin and you winced – his grip was hard. He looked you dead in the eye in a way that made your breath catch in your chest. “You know goddamn well why.”

You weren’t an idiot. Asking him to be straightforward would have been pointless and possibly start a fight. He wasn’t sentimental and it took a bloodstream of hard drugs to show a hint of softness. So you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Me too.”

Your words were met with a gagging sound and a pat on the head. “I think I just lost a ball.”

“We’re here,” Gary said.

Making sure Charlie Hustle’s knife was secure on your thigh and that you had all of your guns, you hopped out of the truck and into the sunshine. “Hot damn.” If Alexandria was to be anything like its fortifications, it was truly going to be a sight to be seen. In front of you stood an intimidating wall of sheet metal. It towered so tall that it blocked the afternoon sun.

What was the most foreboding was the large sign that sat so ominously next to the gate.

**WELCOME TO THE**

**ALEXANDRIA**

**SAFE ZONE**

**MERCY FOR THE LOST**

**VENGENC E FOR THE PLUNDERERS**

A wave of goose bumps blanketed your arms as you read the last line. If this wasn’t a literal sign to turn back, you didn’t know what was. You had the numbers. You had an army, but Alexandria had…something else. It was intangible and you couldn’t articulate it, but the pit in your stomach only grew as you waited for Negan to climb out of the truck. You were only ripped from your brooding at the sound of a long whistle.

“That is just adorable,” Negan smiled, admiring the sign. His view was clearly different than yours. He jabbed his head towards the front gate. “Let’s go say hello.”

You were rooted to the spot. “I think I’m going to hang back with everyone else. It’s your show.”

Negan looked at you skeptically, clearly unsure of what your problem was. “Yeah, and that’s why you’re gonna do what I tell you.”

Knowing that you had lost the battle, you trudged forward.

Loosey goosey, Negan began to swing Lucille in circles as you strolled up to the gate. Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, he gave three sharp whacks. “Little pig, little pig, let me in!”

It didn’t take long for the gate to be opened. As the screen rattled, you sidestepped behind Negan. He noticed and quickly wrenched you back to his side.

The face that greeted you was unfamiliar. While you had been hiding during your time in the woods, you had gotten a good look at everyone. He was almost handsome, with his chestnut hair and firm build, but his eyes were beady and untrustworthy. You were reminded of Gregory.

He looked at Negan, clearly confused. “Um, who are you?”

Immediately your hand went to Negan’s back in a hint to not do anything stupid. His ego was obscenely large, so it was incredibly easy to bruise.

Negan laughed. “Oh, you better be joking!” He lifted up Lucille, giving the stranger a good look at her barbs. “I know I had to make a pretty strong first impression.”

Before the conversation could escalate, a set of footsteps caught your attention.

Rick Grimes was no longer trembling or splattered with blood. Although he was clearly weary, he strode to the gate with a little more strength. However, it was clear as he squinted his eyes against the sun that his spirit had been broken.

The leader of Alexandria took a breath, most likely to reprimand the man foolish enough to give Negan lip, but his gaze fell on you. Stumbling forward, he grabbed the gate for support as his eyes blew open wide.

“[Y/n],” he breathed, his southern drawl cracking.

You lip began to tremble and you wiped an eye. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 chapters and the story's finally started. We're going to have canon scenes weaved in now, and while we're still going in the same direction, I change as much as the dialogue as I can


	21. Officer Friendly

The gate couldn’t open fast enough. All of the pretense disintegrated as your feet pounded on the asphalt. It only took a few footsteps to reach him, but your limbs felt heavy as you ran.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Rick whispered, capturing you in a big bear hug. “I just assumed you were dead.”

“I had hope,” you admitted into his shirt. You felt the teardrops on your hair; Rick was always an emotional man - it was one of the many reasons you kept him so close to your heart.

“Holy shit.” You both turned. Negan was still standing behind the gate with a hand plastered over a giddy grin. He leaned back. “Holy _shit!_ ” he shouted, kicking at the air. “You _know_ each other?” he asked, holding Lucille up to you as he made his way over. He slung an arm around both your necks. “I know I should be pissed,” he turned to you, “especially at you because you completely lied to me, but I am just too _tickled pink!_ ” He shoved you both away and touched his chest. “I need to know the story. Where do you hang your hat, Ric- _k_?”

Rick blinked several times, looking as if he had just been ripped back to earth. He put his hands on his hips. “Just…just down the road.”

Lucille resting against his thigh, Negan excitedly shook his fists. “Gee, this is exciting!” He looked around. “Now what kind of goodies will I find?”

“We already put aside half of the supplies,” Rick began, but Negan stopped him with a shake of the head.

“No, Rick. The shit we take, that’s not up to you.” He looked to the crowd of Saviors behind him. “Arat, get going.”

The woman’s voice was strong as she addressed your peers. “You heard the man! Move out!” At her words the Saviors poured into Alexandria.

Negan leaned in. “This is the part where we look at what you have and take whatever we want,” he explained, “and I have a feeling that it’s going to be a lot because this place is ballin’!” He threw his arms out.

As the Saviors swarmed in, a woman stormed over to Rick, clipping your shoulder violently. “Are you insane?” She threw her hand in your direction. “She’s one of them!” Her eyes burned from under the brim of her hat.

Rick made sure you weren’t looking before he replied. “The Saviors have food, water, and protection. I’m sure she didn’t have a choice. I know her. She is a good person.” He looked to you. “This is Rosita,” he pointed to the man who first met you at the gate, “and Spencer.”

You raised your hand in a pathetic half wave. Rosita was not exactly rolling out the welcome wagon. If looks could kill, you would be a dead woman.

It was then that Rick noticed his friend. Daryl stood off to the side, grubby and broken. Before he could say a word, you put a hand on his chest.

“Don’t,” you whispered.

For a moment it looked like Rick was going to ignore your warning, but he finally nodded in compliance. After a sympathetic look to his friend, he turned his eyes to Negan. “This way.”

Negan was right, Alexandria really was “ballin’.” Large houses with wrapped around porches sat on well-manicured lawns and numerous cars were parked on the road. It sat completely untouched by the end of the world in an almost eerie way.

“I’m right here.” Rick stopped in front of a two story home with a porch that just needed an old lady and a glass of ice tea.

“Hot dog!” Negan exclaimed before charging up the steps. “This is where Rick the Prick lives?”

You ascended the steps with much less enthusiasm and your arms crossed. “Stop it,” you reprimanded quietly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot you two were close.” All smiles, Negan disappeared into the home. It only took a few seconds for a series of loud crashes to waft through the opened door.

“Have you been with them this whole time?” You turned. Rick was standing at the bottom of the steps looking up at you with those blue eyes.

“I had to pretend that I didn’t know you.” You winced at the sound of breaking glass. “He would have used me to get to you. Somehow.” You were relieved when Rick nodded in understanding.

He came onto the porch. “We’ll get you out, I promise. And Daryl.”

At this, you said nothing.

“I have a boy and a little girl.”

You didn’t want to tell Rick that you already knew, that you had seen Negan break him. “Really?” Your eyes welled. You knew, but it was still amazing.

For the first time, Rick smiled. “Carl and Judith.”

“Do you have-?”

“She died.” As quickly as the smile came, it was gone. “You?”

“Let’s go inside.” It wasn’t the smoothest cover, but it worked. Rick followed you in, and what you found was an absolute mess. Negan had gone to town, exploring every nook and cranny of Rick’s home without an inkle of consideration. You watched as he rifled through the kitchen cabinets, casually tossing canned goods over his shoulder with reckless abandonment.

“Would you happen to have any apple butter, Rick?” he asked as you both entered the kitchen. “I have had a hankerin’ for weeks!”

Rick narrowed his eyes and cocked his head as he thought. “No, I don’t think so.” His words came out slowly. It was sad that he had to take apple butter so seriously. If Negan found something that Rick said wasn’t there, there would be hell to pay.

Negan sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to wait.” He clapped his hands together. “But we have more important things to get to!” He waltzed into the dining room and sat at the head of the table.

You shared a glance with Rick before you trailed him, seating yourselves on either side.

“So,” with a single pump of his eyebrows, Negan bit his lip and leaned forward, “what the fuck?”

You were uneasy. This could have gone a lot of ways, but you never imagined Negan to be so amicable about the situation, let alone _jubilant_. Naturally, you were suspicious and knew you had to proceed with caution.

Rick shifted in his seat. “We were friends from the deputy sheriff training academy in Atlanta.”

Negan’s grin couldn’t get wider. “You were a _cop?_ ”

“I was,” you said to your lap.

Negan pointed to his ear. “Is that how-?”

You nodded.

“I would think you two would team up during this, buddy cop style.”

Rick tapped his finger on the table as he stared at the grain. “We had a bit of a falling out. I was friends with someone she didn’t like and it…just didn’t work out.”

Negan lifted a finger. “I feel like there’s more to this story.” As he spoke a handful of Saviors stepped through the door and began to raid the house.

Although Rick’s jaw clenched, he was wise and said nothing about it. “We saw each other for a brief time.”

“Holy shit,” Negan whispered.  “This apple just gets juicer by the minute. I mean, I told you I was going to take your shit but I am _really_ taking your shit.”

Rick’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

Negan smiled dreamily. “Yeah, I know,” he said softly.

Underneath the table your hand shot forward. You gave Negan’s knee a squeeze – Rick didn’t need to know what was going on between the both of you.

He briefly looked at Negan. “I have to ask you, can you let her stay with us?”

“ _Rick!_ ” you snapped.

Negan rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, literally on the edge of his seat. “You know what, Rick? Because you’ve been so accommodating, I’ll be more than happy to let little [Y/n] spread her wings and flutter on over here.” He turned his focus to you. “If she wants to, of course.”

You could have slugged Negan in the face right there if you thought it would have accomplished anything. This had been his plan all along. Of course he was furious that you hadn’t told him about Rick. He just wanted you to be the one to tell him that you were in love with the enemy.

Both men were staring at you expectedly and you began to pull at your fingers. You wanted to run, but that would only allow Negan to fill in the blank without your supervision, and God help you if that happened.

“Rick, I’m… _beyond_ thrilled to have found you,” that wasn’t a lie, “but I’m going to stay with the Saviors. They’ve been very good to me.”

For a second, the mask slipped off and Rick jerked forward. “How can you say that?” he asked.

Before you could reply, Negan shoved Rick back into his seat. “I really don’t like you talking to her like that." The grin had been wiped from his face and his eyes hardened.

It was too much too fast. Pushing your chair back, you shot up the stairs. You needed peace and quiet and the Saviors had yet to make it to the second floor. You went through the first door you saw, and it appeared to be the master bedroom. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you gazed out the window, watching as the Saviors emptied out the houses. Mattresses were dragged down the street and men’s knees buckled under the weight of appliances. With a heavy sigh, you plonked your head against the window frame.

Downstairs, the tension could be cut with a knife. As the Saviors plundered, Negan and Rick simply sat, glaring.

Rick was the one to break the silence. “What are you doing to her?”

“I’m not doing jack shit,” Negan snorted.

“No,” Rick shook his head, “she would never stay with your kind of people if she had a choice. She was a cop. She was my friend-”

“‘My kind of people’?” Negan jabbed a finger in Rick’s face. “My kind of people don’t kill others in their sleep.” He stood up as the grin crept back to his face. He leaned down until he was only an inch from Rick’s ear. “Now I’m going to go make a real dirty girl out of your friend, and I’m going to do it in your bed.” He clapped Rick on the back and went upstairs.

The ex-sheriff’s knuckles were white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this came out all right and the small dialogue substitutes worked for the few canon bits I did keep. I had a few glasses of wine in me :P


	22. Quid Pro Quo

It took the sound of footsteps to pull you from your daze. Although he was smiling, you knew that Negan was not happy when he closed the bedroom door.

“Lucy, you got some serious fucking s’plainin’ to do.” He pointed an accusing finger at you.

You put a hand over your heart. “You would have used me against him if you knew that we had a history.” The words came out in a fast string.

Negan curled his lip, looking at you as if you were the stupidest person on the planet. “Uh, _yeah_ , and you would have been pretty damn skippy about it seeing that I’ve carried your druggie ass over the last few months.”

You turned back to the window and watched as a Savior carried a chest full of toys down the road. A wave of disgust passed through you. “This is looting. We’re extorting them.”

Crossing his arms, Negan leaned against the window frame. “Is that how you see me?” There was a clear amount of contempt in his voice.

“No, I love you.” You just hated his morals.

Negan deflated. Running a hand down his face, his eyes rolled upward. “Christ, you really mean it.”

You gave him a quick glance as you began to anxiously chew at your thumb. “Why, did you think I was lying before?”

“Just weird that I didn’t ask you to say it.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I mean, I like my balls tickled, but at least do it with a smile.”

You affectionately whacked him on the chest. Before you could pull away, he caught your wrist and brought you to him. “I think it’s about time you fully disclose the story behind your badass badge. I’m getting a little tired of looking like a jackass, _especially_ in front of that guy.” Negan gestured towards the door. “And also why you two went splitsville.” He touched his hands together in prayer. “Please tell me it’s because he has a tiny prick. _Please._ ”

With a smile, you kissed his shaggy cheek. “That’s private.”

Negan grunted disappointedly. “Well, at least tell me the rest. I’m feeling gossipy.”

You paused. “Not until you tell me something about you.”

“What the fuck?”

You squinted your eyes curiously. “I just realized that I know so little.”

Negan looked at you dismissively. “I don’t know my birthstone, if that’s what you want.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

With a groan, Negan finally accepted his fate. “I would take a bullet in my right ass cheek for Eric Clapton.”

“Oh, Slowhand. I can see that,” you murmured against his lips before stepping back. You retreated back to the window, hugging yourself. “There had been an arsonist in Atlanta. Rick and I went to his home to book him and…he lit himself and the entire place on fire.” The room had suddenly become very cold.

Negan wanted to push you. He knew that you had tried to save someone, and you still hadn’t explained what you had said to him in your heroin haze.

_“You don’t have the right eyes.”_

He had tripped balls, and he knew that he couldn’t dismiss your words, but you just looked so broken. It wouldn’t even be funny to antagonize you. You were too far gone to get angry.

So he kissed you.

It was messy and it was hot. It felt as if he was going to eat you alive as you fumbled with his belt buckle. You wanted to touch him – you wanted him to touch _you_. His belt fell to the floor with a clatter and you quickly brought your fumbling fingers to the zipper of his jacket.

He tugged at your hair, stumbling backwards as he covered your neck with rough kisses. “Shit,” he swore when the back of his legs smacked against the edge of the bed. Years of fighting off the living dead gave him the reflexes to avoid a fall. Instead, he managed to sit, pulling you onto his lap.

Lunging forward, you nipped at the sensitive skin behind his ear, making the man sigh as he shrugged off his jacket. Blindly you reached for his waistband, triumphant when your fingers wrapped around the grip of his gun.

“Fuck, don’t shoot my nuts off,” he jabbed, his breath warm on your ear.

“Don’t even joke about that right now.” You made sure the safety was on before tossing it aside. You decided that you would kiss him until your lips went numb, and he seemed to have the same idea. It didn’t take long for your skin to become pink from his scruff. The contact was momentarily broken when your shirt was ripped over your head.

Negan let out a long, satisfied whistle as he unhooked your bra. “God is real.”

Snickering, you hugged his head. “Just you wait.”

~*~

There was no way Rick was going to stay in the house when he knew what was happening upstairs. With a sour taste in his mouth, the leader of Alexandria shoved past the Saviors and out the door. He needed to round up the gang; they had a lot to talk about. No, he had a lot of convincing to do and very little time to do it.

Rick counted his lucky stars that Rosita had left with Spencer. It was clear that she didn’t like you, which was understandable. You were a Savior, a follower of the man who had just brutally murdered the love of her life and a friend right in front of her eyes.

Jesus, and you were Negan’s right hand woman – his _lover_. The thought made fire run through Rick’s blood and his hands clench into fists. He didn’t understand it. You had been the most kind-hearted, lawful, sweet person he had known. He had never met anyone who took his or her job so seriously. It had made him a better cop.

Just what the hell had happened to you? He clenched his jaw.

“Damn it!” Rick winced and touched his fingertip to his lip. Pulling it back, he saw that it was covered in scarlet. Who was still here? Maggie and Sasha were at the Hilltop, Rosita was somewhere in the wastelands, Glenn and Abraham were…

A piercing pain in Rick’s temple stopped him in his tracks. Spots peppered his vision as he doubled over. He winced, grappling for support. Stumbling, he was able to slide down the side of a wall. Sitting, he brought his knees to his chest, trying to hide his face from the sunlight.

Never had he been this angry, not even when Shane went behind his back and tried to move in on Lori. She was his wife, but you – you had been his best friend _and_ more in his young adult years. Shane had been bullheaded and aggressive, but he was a man. He was acceptable by society.

“Dad?”

Rick looked up, barely able to see his son through his squinted eyelids. “Carl,” he rasped.

Carl’s eyebrows knit together as he anxiously looked down at his father. He knelt down and touched his shoulder. “Are you okay? Do you need medicine? We’re right next to the doctor’s office.”

Rick managed a pained smile and pat Carl on the back. “I’m fine.”

“Did they do something to you?” Carl wasn’t an idiot. He had spent a good portion of his childhood in the apocalypse and he knew what a hurting man looked like. “Dad, tell me.” He sat down.

Touched by his son’s concern, Rick nodded. “I saw someone today that I knew growing up.”

Carl’s lips parted in surprise. “What?”

Rick nodded. “We met back at the deputy sheriff training academy in Atlanta, just out of high school. She was my best friend and my first partner.”

“I thought Shane was your partner?”

Rick pursed his lips. “He was, after an accident.”

“What happened?”

“Carl, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

The young man was relentless. “You’re sitting on the ground, looking like you’re about to die. You have to tell me what happened.”

Rick knew that Carl was right. His voice was soft and wistful when he spoke. “We –uh, there was an arsonist, running around Atlanta for… _months._ The department got a break and we went to arrest him. I don’t know how, but he knew that we were coming. He doused his whole house with gas and when we opened the door…” Rick splayed his fingers out. “Her left ear got burned, but she just charged into the house. Guy had a family. She passed out from the smoke and I went in and got her.” He sighed, staring at his feet. “None of them lived.”

Carl couldn’t find the right words. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

The sound of pillaging rang loud as Rick thought, rubbing his forehead. “I betrayed her trust. Shane tried something with her and I took his side, vouched for him. Nothing happened, but still.” He looked at his son. “She’s strong and wouldn’t put up with that. So she left, turned to drugs. She quit her job. Wouldn’t let me help, but now I can.” His voice was stronger.

“Where is she?”

“She’s with Negan.”

“ _What?_ ” The horror in Carl’s voice was almost comical.

Rick was fast with an answer. “She’s vulnerable and lonely. She needs someone to help her, to make her feel wanted. Negan’s playing his mind games, taking advantage of her – thinking he’s helping. She’s just confused. We need to get her out of there.”

Carl bit his lip as he thought. “Did you love her?”

After a moment, Rick answered. “It was before your mom, but this has nothing to do with that.”

“Let’s do it.” Carl smiled.

~*~

“If you can walk, then I didn’t do my job.”

“Then you’re getting a promotion,” you countered, stumbling down the hallway. Luckily, Negan caught you by the arm, only to press you up against the wall.

“You are making an ass of yourself.” Handing you Lucille, he draped your arm around his shoulders. “It’s fucking great.”

After some maneuvering, you were out in the sunshine and walking down the sidewalk. You felt everyone’s gaze. No one touched Lucille – ever. So to see you so casually hanging onto her with a dopey smile on your face threw many through a loop, but none so much as Rick Grimes. Watching you limp by with the weapon that had bludgeoned his friends to death took the air out of his lungs. It took him a moment to see that things only got worse – you were hanging off the man who had killed them, your eyes sparkling.

He didn’t think. Rick was acting on pure animal instinct as he jumped to his feet. He saw you turn, surprise written on your face.

Rick wanted to bash that son of a bitch’s face in.

Before he could take a step, Carl jumped in front of him. “Dad, no!” he shouted, pushing him back. “That’s not how we solve this!”

Suddenly reality came crashing back and Rick realized the mistake he had made.

Like a bull seeing red, Negan huffed, wrenching Lucille from your hand. “Oh, that is a hard _no!_ ” he shouted, jabbing the bat in Rick’s face. Rick readied himself for a fight, but something astonishing happened; you stepped in.

You touched a hand to Negan’s cheek and began to speak in soft words, too soft for Rick to make out. Whatever they were, they had to have been a spell, because Negan settled down.

He looked to Rick. “You’re lucky I have this sweet girl to calm me down.” A smirk played on his lips. “And we totally just plowed, so I’m in a good mood.”

“ _Dad_.” Carl could feel his dad’s muscles tense.

Recognizing his son’s wisdom, Rick took a deep breath. “I’m all right.”

Negan’s smile only widened. “Atta’ boy, Rick! Talk about maturity!” He watched as a box of food was carried passed. “Well, I think we’re gonna go-”

“Can she stay, for a night?” Rick swallowed. “I want her to meet my son…and my daughter.”

Negan raised his eyebrows. “I ain’t her daddy.” He looked at you. “What do you wanna do?”

You glanced at Rick. “I’d like that.”

Lifting your chin, Negan kissed you, making sure to look at Rick out of the corner of his eye. Letting you go, he stood in front of him, leaning on Lucille “If one hair on her pretty little head is out of place, I swear to God, I will kill everything you love.” He gave Rick a sharp, two finger poke to the forehead before retreating.

Negan lightly ran his knuckles down your arm and before you knew it, he was gone.

Rick took his hand off of his holster. “Do you want me to show you around?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so damn excited for this reader/Negan/Rick dynamic. Just writing that last bit gave me so much joy. 
> 
> God, this is going to be so long. I'm sorry.


	23. The Fall

It was the second time you’d seen Rick in thirty something years. You were pulled back in time so fast that you almost got whiplash, and it was overwhelming.

Hooking a thumb in his holster belt, Rick looked at the ground before glancing at his son. “This is my boy, Carl.”

Carl offered you a small smile. “Hey.”

A single blue eye peaked out from underneath Rick’s sheriff’s hat, slightly hidden by a mop of brown, silky bangs. He was definitely his father’s son. Perhaps his most defining feature was the white bandage that covered his right eye. Your curiosity peaked at his injury, but you knew better than to ask about it. You had your own deformity, and you personally didn’t like people gawking.

“Can I hug you?” you asked awkwardly.

He let out a short laugh. “Yeah, sure.” You welcomed his hug with opened arms, giving him only a quick squeeze so you didn’t embarrass him, although you had a feeling that he wouldn’t mind.

Rick watched the exchange with a smile. “I have to go see Judith. She’s back at the house.” He turned and motioned for you to follow.

Carl looked to his dad. “I’m going to see if Enid’s okay, they were bullying her earlier.” He turned to you. “It was nice to meet you.” He waved as you went your separate ways.

You fell into a comfortable pace. “This place is ridiculous.” You didn’t know where to look.

Rick followed your eyes. “It was a planned community. It has its own solar grid, cisterns, and some sort of eco-based sewage filtration.”

You shook your head in awe. “It was built for the end of the world.”

Your friend sighed. “Well, it hasn’t exactly been easy to maintain.”

“I bet. Have you been here since the beginning?”

“God no.” The words came from his lips so fast that you couldn’t help but laugh.

You had reached Rick’s house and climbed the porch steps. He silently led you through his ransacked home and a pang of guilt pierced your heart. Your people had done this. _Negan_ had done this.

Reaching a closed door, Rick turned to you, placing a finger to his lips before turning the doorknob. The action was so sweet that it brought you a rush of warmth. Carefully, Rick pushed the door open and stepped inside.

A little girl lay as snug as a bug in her crib. She was dozing, her chest rhythmically rising and falling with every relaxed breath. Her blonde hair and chubby cheeks made her look nothing short of a cherub.

“Who gave you permission to have children?” you whispered, leaning over the railing.

His face alight, Rick shrugged. “God knows.”  With a final loving glance at his daughter, he asked, “Can I talk to you?” After you nodded, Rick took you out into the hallway. He looked at the ground, clearly anxious. “I think you should stay here. We have everything you need. I can already tell Carl likes you and these are good people. You’ll have a life here.”

Your face fell. “Was this your plan all along, to recruit me?”

“No, I wanted you to meet my kids and to spend time with you.”

“I’m not at the Sanctuary just to Survive. I have friends there too - Dwight, Fat Joey, Gavin-”

“Negan?”

The way he said his name made your blood boil, but you remained calm. “You don’t know him, Rick.” This was becoming a very familiar conversation.

“I don’t-” Realizing how loud his voice was, Rick paused, lowering his tone, “I don’t know him? He _murdered_ my friends and _laughed._ He almost had me cut my son’s arm off!”

Your face flushed. “He’s treated me better than anyone else I’ve been with, including you!” You jabbed a finger in his face. “You know what Negan would do if someone tried to take advantage of me? He’d kill them.”

“I killed Shane.” Rick’s voice was soft as he stared at your feet. “You were right. He had to be put down.”

This made you pause.

“I’m sorry.” Rick’s eyes had become glassy. He shrugged. “I didn’t want to believe you.”

You smiled. “He gives me books. This morning he gave me a copy of _Moby Dick_. He wrote, ‘Tell [Y/n] Speilberg changed Quint’s death because it was like Ahab’s.’” You reached for the doorknob. “I love you, Rick, but we can’t have a relationship until you accept this.”

You were halfway out the door before he spoke. “Did he ever say that he loved you?”

“In his own way, yes.” When Rick looked at you skeptically, you became defensive. “You know he isn’t one to speak that way.”

“You’re not seeing clearly.” Rick was starting to look upset, but he kept his voice steady. He was always the voice of reason in arguments and sometimes you really hated him for it.

“Even if I wanted to go, he’d give you hell.”

Rick shook his head. “We’ll work something out.” He made it sound so simple.

Seeing your friend hurting broke your heart. “You can’t.”

“That’s because he’s a psychopath.” Rick’s voice was quiet.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I’ll see you again.” Before he could protest, you were out the door.

Your eyes moist, you hurried down the street, ignoring the dirty looks being thrown your way. The person keeping guard opened the gate without a word. You would have to walk back to the Sanctuary. Negan wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow.

You looked up at the sound of a sharp whistle.

“Negan,” you breathed.

The object of your affection was leaning against the wall of Alexandria, wearing a lazy smile.

“Well, that was fast.” He let out an ‘oof’ when you gave him a warm embrace.

“Why are you still here?” you asked into his chest.

Negan looked down at you. “If you thought I was going to leave you alone with No Dick and the posse, you’re a douchebag.” Putting two fingers in his mouth, Negan gave out a piercing whistle. At the sound every Savior from the run emerged from the forest. Negan’s head lolled in your direction. “Was that cool, or was that cool?”

You touched your cheek. “You’re all here.”

“Again, you’re a douchebag.” Before Negan could say more, he noticed your tear stained cheeks. At the flick of a switch his face darkened. “That piece of shit’s dead.” He ripped Lucille from her place against the wall, ready to plow through the gate.

You grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t. It won’t solve anything.”

“What did that hillbilly say to you?”

“Negan, it doesn’t matter-”

“ _What did he say?_ ”

The volume of his voice made you flinch and turn away.

Seeing that he was doing more harm than good, Negan gave up in a single aggravated huff. Rick and the people of Alexandria were a good resource and he had planned to use them to their full capacity, but he had not foreseen running into this problem. He wanted to give Rick a good, righteous kick in the balls, the kind that made your voice go up several octaves and ripped apart your manhood.

“Marry me.”

You brushed him aside. “What? Shut up.”

Negan took you by the chin. “I’m dead serious.” He lifted a hand. “Swear on my right nut. A legitimate one. I’m sure we have some sort of officiate somewhere.”

You only stared at him, trying to see if there was an angle. Finally, you answered, “Let’s go home.”

~*~

You watched as the raw opium was poured into large barrels of calcium solution. The sap ran smoothly out of the buckets in a milky waterfall, poured with such precision that not a single drop was spilt. You wore a nurse’s mask, shielding your face from the vicious chemicals. It wasn’t the best protection, but you hadn’t been able to find gas masks.

Satisfied with the work, you tossed the mask and left the production room. Business was booming and the Saviors had more surplus than they knew what to do with. The animosity that had been directed at you at the beginning of your stay had melted away. You had brought wealth to the Sanctuary and people didn’t have to work as hard because of the import boom. Of course the success impressed Negan, and he couldn’t hide his giddiness.

He also couldn’t drop the subject of marriage. Whenever you ran into him, he pestered you about it, and you always turned him down. It wasn’t a matter of heart – you loved him, tooth rottenly so, but the words of Sherry, Dwight, and Rick rang in your head at every turn.

But did they really have a right to make you question him? Each of them had been scorned and left bitter and angry. Surely they would say anything to take Negan down, to destroy any chance at happiness.

You had to block out all of the noise. How had he treated _you?_ Like a goddamn queen.

Then another voice echoed in your head.

 _“So you’re willing to live in willful ignorance to such cruelty so long as it doesn’t affect you?”_ You remembered the look on Jesus’ face as clear as day. He had been disgusted.

You walked into your room, sensing that you weren’t alone. “I’m going on a drug run in about an hour. I’d appreciate it if you keep the noise down until then. I want to lie down.”

Negan briefly looked over his shoulder before he went back to rummaging through your bookshelf. “A third of these really suck ass. Like, clamp your teeth down like it’s your mom’s tit kind.”

You were too mentally exhausted to defend your literary preferences. “What do you want?”

“Uh, you marrying me would be pretty neat, but apparently that’s just me.” He gave you jazz hands.

You rolled onto your side. “I don’t trust your intentions. It’s so fast.”

Negan pouted. “That hurts me right here.” He drew an ‘x’ over his heart. “But I know when my balls have been stomped on too many times. I’m going out.” Slipping your scarf out of his pocket, he tied it around his neck and rested Lucille on his shoulder. Without another glance, he made his way to the door.

“Wait.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t, ‘Negan, of course I’ll marry you because you are the coolest guy _ever_ ,’ I’m leaving.”

You slowly got up from the bed. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you pressed your cheek against his back. The leather was soft against your cheek and you closed your eyes.

“Okay.”

“Awesome.”

~*~

For the second time, you stood with Negan on the highest walkway and for the second time, you wanted to toss yourself off it. Unlike before, the Saviors had not been gathered to learn of a new business venture. No, it was for another reason entirely.

“Man, I am having a _serious_ case of déjà vu!” Negan was nothing but smiles as he looked over his kneeling subjects. “Last time we were up here, I was announcing our new business venture, which is _seriously_ kicking ass by the way!” His words were met with cheers. “Today, we’re talking about something a little more,” he twirled his wrist, trying to find the right words, “personal. By now, all of you know this girl.” He looked at you and you shrank back, but Negan’s hand slid down the banister and he linked his fingers with yours. He touched his chest. “As a group, I think we can agree that she’s rad as shit. So, obviously, I married her.”

The second part of the sentence was delivered in such a blasé way that it took a moment for the Saviors to digest the information. When it finally sank in, surprise murmurs rippled in the crowd. Their gossip didn’t hinder Negan.

“So here’s the thing, I expect you to give her your upmost respect. If she asks you to jump, not only will you ask her, how high, you’ll see if she wants you to jack knife. Does everybody understand?” After a chorus of affirmation, you both retreated.

As soon as you were in the shadows, he was on you like a lion. His wedding band was cool against your cheek. At first you were surprised that he wanted to carry through with the tradition, but you realized that he didn’t do so because of sentiment. It was because Negan was territorial.

You weren’t sure which one you liked better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just gets more complicated...


	24. Badass

Carl Grimes sat in the back of the box truck, his mind racing. Although his heart was beating like a drum and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, he meant what he had told Enid; he was going to kill Negan if it was the last thing he did.

The young man’s life truly read like a Shakespearean tragedy. He was ripped from his childhood and thrown into a post-apocalyptic dystopia where every day was a fight to breathe. Carl had lived through his father’s perceived death and the slaughter of his friends. He had been forced to do the unimaginable and kill his mother.

Yet he was still standing.

While Carl was nervous about what he was going to do, he wasn’t afraid. He had seen the way his dad looked at you, and he knew how broken he had been when you had left. He didn’t know what you would be in his dad’s life, but you needed to be in it in whatever capacity. They would figure that out once you were away from the Saviors.

The truck came to a screeching halt and a cacophony of snarls filled Carl’s ears, but that wasn’t what put him on edge. He had fought walkers before his voice had dropped. What made him weary was the sound of Negan’s voice, and just how close it was.

“Okay, boys, let’s get this haul unloaded and inside. I want to get in there and unload a little myself.”

God, he sounded so _normal._ Carl tried to push Negan’s humanity to the back of his mind as he snatched a machine gun. He carefully attached the magazine, making sure to listen to the Savior’s every move.

With his gun fully loaded, Carl crouched behind a stack of boxes. His breath came out in short pants as he aimed the barrel out of the truck, sweat dampening his skin as Negan and the Saviors continued to talk. He needed to wait for the opportune moment; he only had one chance.

It came when one of the men hopped in back with a little too much enthusiasm. Laughing at some joke, the Savior hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings. Stumbling into a box, it burst open and a dozen bottles of alcohol crashed to the ground, splashing his shoes and pants with booze.

He noticed Carl at the last second. “What the hell?”

He pulled the trigger.

~*~

With a grunt, you dug up another potato and tossed it into your basket. Your gloves covered with soil, you wiped your forehead with your arm.

“It’s so kind of you to help us.”

You looked up from the plot. A young woman with light blue eyes and long blonde hair knelt next to you, her hands just as grubby as yours.

“I’m sorry?”

She flushed and looked back at the garden. “I know, we _all_ know, that you don’t have to be here. You’re Negan’s _real_ wife. I’m sure you don’t have to lift a finger.”

“Oh.” It was your turn to blush as you looked at the sparkling ring on your finger. “I think it’s important to have a personal relationship with the people. There needs to be a sense of trust and I’d like you all to feel comfortable enough to approach me with concerns or even just a casual conversation.” You hesitated. “Especially with workers. I think there’s been a little favoritism up until now.” A small yelp escaped you when the woman enveloped you in a hug.

“Thank you,” she breathed before wiping her eyes.

You weren’t sure what to do; you had just been uprooting potatoes and now a stranger was misty eyed.  “What’s your name?”

“Stephanie.”

“Is there anything you need?”

Stephanie bit her lip and looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

You put a comforting hand on her back. “I might be married to Negan, but I’m not him.”

With a steady breath, she finally spoke. “I’m low on points and my son’s running out of his asthma medication.”

You offered a reassuring smile. “I’ll talk to him.”

Before Stephanie could answer, an explosion of gun fire echoed off the walls. Immediately it was met with panicked screams as men and women leapt up from the garden, knocking over the freshly picked fruits and vegetables.

You jumped to your feet and took out your gun. “Everyone get inside!” you called. “Don’t run and get to your bunks until we tell you otherwise.” You were amazed to see how easily the hoard of people listened to you. Their eyes looked to you gratefully as they charged into the Sanctuary. When the last person’s foot disappeared through the door, you took off.

A shipment from the Hilltop was coming in today and you knew that Negan wanted to oversee the haul. He would be in the front yard, and that’s where the bullets were coming from.

You didn’t even like to toy with the idea of Negan dying. It was foolish, but until now it had never crossed your mind. He had an omnipotent aura and he truly seemed to be undefeatable. You were sure that was why he could lead hundreds of people with a cruel hand and not worry about an uprising. The man seemed to be invincible. But as the shots continued to rip through the air, your faith wavered.

The only thing that shook you more than the bullets was the eerie silence that followed.

Panting, you pressed your back against the wall and peaked around the corner. You went slack jawed.

“ _Carl?_ ” All heads turned to you.

Surrounded by dead bodies, Negan stood over Carl with a hand outstretched. Rick’s son was covered in dirt and his chest was heaving. Clearly there had been a scuffle.

Negan looked like he was walking on sunshine and his eyes only brightened when you rounded the corner. He opened an arm. “I found us a kid!” He looked back at Carl. “And he scares the _shit_ out of me!”

You rushed forward. “Are you hurt?” You knelt down and began to check his body for wounds.

Carl panted. “No. I’m fine.”

Negan laughed. “Oh no. Dirty Harry here careened out of that truck like a goddamn bat out of hell and made us say hello to his little friend!” For someone who had just lost two men, he looked positively jolly. “I mean, what is the deal with facial fuck ups and massive cajones because I am starting to see a pattern!”

Carl scowled. “Those are two different movies.”

Negan shook his head, slapped silly at Carl’s bravery. “I am so glad Dwight took your gun. I _actually_ might have pissed myself.” He looked to you, but you had turned away.

At the Sanctuary you had forgotten your deformed ear. Negan had done that for you, but his joke had brought your insecurity and shame back in an instant.

The smile was wiped from Negan’s face. You only looked up when you felt an affectionate scratch on the top of your head.

“Shockingly, this the first time a kid has jumped out of a truck and tried to murder me. I’m still acclimating.”

You recognized the apology and placed your hand on top of his. Carl’s eye widened in horror.

Negan raised his eyebrows and pointed to you. “Oh, you didn’t know?” he asked innocently before holding up his left hand, showing the white gold band around his ring finger. “I put a ring on it.”

Carl’s lip twitched and he sat up. “You can’t do that!”

Negan sucked at his teeth. “Who said I made her do anything?” He touched his chest and looked at you. “I personally thought I was a gentlemen.”

Never had you thought the opinion of a teenager would matter so much to you. But as Carl’s face twisted into a mixture of shock, despair, and denial, you wanted to shrink into yourself. It was exhausting, whenever someone learned that you were with Negan, and you didn’t know how many times you were going to have to go through this song and dance.

“Carl, let’s go take the three hour tour.” Negan smiled. “And make sure to say hi to Daryl on our way in.” He jabbed his chin over Carl’s shoulder.

“Don’t look,” you advised, helping Carl to his feet, but he brushed your words away.

Negan watched as Daryl’s fingers curled around the metal links, his eyes on nobody but Carl. “How’s the job going, Daryl? Hot enough for you?” he taunted before looking to Dwight. “Can you get that guy on food prep because I would be such a _bad_ host if I didn’t offer Mr. Badass some nosh.” He clapped a hand on Carl’s shoulder and looked at you. “I’m gonna take him on the scenic route out here, like on your first day. Wait for us in the apartment.”

He clapped both hands on either side of your face and placed a firm kiss to your forehead.

With a final fleeting glance at Carl, you left.

~*~

When you got engaged, all of your things were immediately moved to Negan’s apartment on one condition – he throw away his old bed. You didn’t need to be sleeping with the ghosts of his former “wives”. He had agreed to the terms without batting an eye.

So you lay on the leather sofa, your nose buried in one of your signed David Sedaris novels you had somehow been able to hold onto after the apocalypse.

_I absorbed as much of her abuse as I could understand, thinking – but not saying– that I find it ridiculous to assign a gender to an inanimate object which is incapable of disrobing and making an occasional fool of itself. Why refer to Lady Crack Pipe or Good Sir Dishrag when these things could never live up to all that their sex implied?_

With a snort the book fell from your hands, unable to keep a grip while you were laughing so much.

“What are you laughing at?” Negan stepped out of the bathroom, his hair damp and smelling good. You simply held up the book so he could pluck it from your fingers. It took him a minute to read over the chapter before he chuckled. “I hated French. I felt myself actually _growing_ a pussy.”

You hummed, reaching up and pulling his face down to yours. “You’re a cool cat.” Any other words were silenced by Negan’s mouth. You ran your thumb up and down his cheek as he nibbled on your bottom lip. “Sit with me.”

“Carl Grimes is a cool cat,” Negan said as he unceremoniously pushed your legs off the couch before sitting down. “How that kid shot out of Rick’s nuts is beyond me.” He lay down next to you, pulling you onto his chest.

You stared up at the ceiling. “You gave him a lot of shit today, brought up his mother. It was unnecessary.” It had been bothering you for hours. Carl was as tough as nails, but he was still a child.

Negan barked. “Are you serious? He would have been bothered if he was a little bitch, but he sacked up. Kid’s a beast. Not a big fan of him trying to Shanghai you away though.”

“I’m not leaving.” Your voice was resolute.

Negan ran his knuckles down your arm. “I know, sweet girl.”

 And there you lay, like a married couple whose lives were about to go to Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be out earlier, but I needed to make Negan's dialogue flow perfectly with the one or two canon sentence's I actually kept, and I literally felt like Charlie Kelly during his Pepe Sylvia speech while doing it. I'm also epileptic and being super seizury @_@
> 
> On another note, this is the most feedback I have ever gotten on a story and every comment is so well thought out and considerate. Thank you, truly.
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://www.dazzlejunction.com/generators/image-generator.php)  
>   
> 


	25. Ups and Downs

“Man, I have been in a _lot_ of awkward situations,” Negan whispered as he peaked outside of the bedroom door, “but I never thought I would almost get murdered by a kid, only to have him try to steal my wife, and then _refuse to leave.”_ He looked at you. “Is this dude for real? Damn!”

With a hand on Negan’s arm, you looked over his shoulder. Carl sat in the living room, face as hard as stone. “I’ll talk to him. He’s here for me.” You smiled. “He might try to kill you again.”

“Hey, I fucked my way into this situation and I’ll fuck my way out.” A roaming hand took a firm grab of your ass. You didn’t need to turn to see the horndog smile in your mind’s eye.

Smacking the offending hand away, you crossed the room and picked up Carl’s bandage.

Negan cocked his head and shut the door, blocking your way. Wetting his lips, he narrowed his eyes. “I thought I made it pretty clear that the bandage was staying off.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You had your playtime. He’s been humiliated enough.” You tried to pass, but only got a firm hand to the chest. The tension in the air became palpable as your eyes locked. “I’m not sure what you think this is, but I am not one of your harem girls you can just order around,” you finally whispered.

Negan’s eyes widened and he leaned back. “Holy shit,” he said softly. “You’re _scary_.”

You were quiet as you stared into his eyes. It was so damn hard to read Negan, and it was frustrating, especially now that you had taken each other through sickness and through health.

“I have to be.” Your voice was laced with a soft sadness. When you tried to pass him again, he grabbed your wrist.

His eyes shifted from left to right, as if to make sure you were alone. “You’ve got the officer standing at attention and he could really use an honorable discharge.”

You had to slap a hand over your mouth to hide your snort. “That…was impressive.” You reached between his legs to see that it was very much so. “Really, a borderline threat? That’s what did it?”

Negan comically widened his eyes as he nodded his head. “Oh, big time. Try to stab me and I’ll cream my pants.”

“There’s-” you glanced at Carl again and lowered your voice, “there’s a kid.”

He winced. “Ah, I’m sure Rick will teach him about it eventually.”

Before he could say any more, you kneed him in the crotch and shoved him aside. Doubled over and probably pissed, Negan was too incapacitated to stop you from slipping through the door.

“I’m not leaving unless you come with me.” The words were out of Carl’s mouth before you even closed the door.

You sat next to him and took a deep breath, thinking about what you were going to say. “Carl, I need you to understand-”

“I understand that he’s a murderer!” He flung his arm out. “If you think you’re trapped…” he paused, blinking rapidly as the thoughts whirred through his head. “We can beat him.” He turned to you, his blue eye boring into yours. “We’ve done it before.”

The earnestness in his voice touched you. “You’re just like your dad.”

“And my dad wants you back with us.”

Your face sombered. “But _I_ don’t want to be, Carl.”

At this, Carl quieted down. Averting his gaze, he sighed. “He’s with someone, but he’s so obviously in love with you.” He looked up and smiled for the first time that day. “It’s kinda gross.”

“I love him too.”

Carl’s mouth became a thin line. “Yeah, but not in the right way.”

“I love Negan.”

“ _Why?_ ” There it was, that look of distain you were becoming all too familiar with.

The question caught you by surprise. You blinked several times, trying to articulate something you weren’t quite sure of yourself.

“Do you like rollercoasters?” you asked slowly.

Carl scrunched his nose. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip. “Logic says we shouldn’t like them. They hurl us upside down, whip us side to side, and even shake things from our pockets. Hell, we scream while we ride them. It’s…a thrill. You experience something you never normally would. It’s-it’s intense and risky, and…exciting. That’s what it’s like with him.” You turned your head. “Have you seen this?” You showed Carl your burned ear. “The bastard makes me feel good about it. Surely you understand how significant that is at least.”

With a sigh of defeat, Carl stood. “We’re still going to kill him.”

“And I’ll stop you.”

Carl nodded. “Okay.”

Your heart torn, you handed him his bandage. The young man gave you a grateful smile and put it over his empty eye socket. You were taken aback when he brought you into a warm embrace.

“We’ll take you home. Just wait here.” With a final squeeze, you retreated back to the bedroom.

“If you didn’t completely annihilate my boys, I would screw you against that goddamn wall.” Negan sat on the couch, slouched over with his elbows on his knees. He looked at the door. “Did you mean that or were you just jerking me off?”

You crossed the room and cupped his face. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Negan put his hand over yours. “Better bring that kid back before Rick tries to fist me.”

“Sit back.”

“The fuck you talking about?”

You put a hand to his chest and pushed him up against the back rest. “I feel bad about the balls thing. Just,” you kissed him, “close your eyes.” Settling yourself on his lap, you began to undo his belt.

A wicked grin spread across Negan’s face as he watched you through hooded eyes. “Holy shit. An old fashioned.” 

You took him in your hand as you pressed your lips against his. There was a small feeling of victory when you earned a sharp intake of breath from the man who literally drove people to their knees.

“Shit, baby,” Negan murmured, his fingers diving into your hair.

You continued to move at a steady pace, watching as he become more undone. With a sigh, you dragged your nails down his scalp. You had just pulled away for air when a wonderfully surprising bite was placed on your collarbone.

His eyelids fluttering closed, Negan’s head lulled back. You immediately shot forward and kissed the sensitive skin next to his Adam’s apple. You smiled against his skin as his hips gave an involuntary jerk. His breaths were becoming shorter and more haggard.

It was truly a sight to see, the big bad boss become putty in your hands. Usually Negan wasn’t so submissive, but the jab to his crotch must have settled him down for the time being. He fought the urge to groan, resorting to heavy sighs as he clawed at you.

“ _Fuck._ ” He wrenched you to him, pressing you into the crook of his neck as he finally let go. You listened to his heartbeat as it slowly returned to its normal pace.

“That’s me jerking you off.”

~*~

To say that Negan left the Sanctuary bright eyed and bushy tailed would have been an understatement. The kick to the nads had been long forgotten as you hit the ever desolated road. With Carl behind the wheel, you and Negan were free to canoodle.

People would be shocked to know that he was particularly physically affectionate after sexual exploits with you. You also had a feeling that he was hamming it up because of the teenager that was in the truck with you. Surely Carl would tell his father about everything he saw, and knowing that his archenemy was all over his childhood sweetheart would drive him mad.

Negan placed you against his chest. “I can see why your dad’s practically humping her leg like a dog. She is _super_ hot.” Negan looked to Carl. “Do you think he’ll be pissed that I married her?”

The leather of the steering wheel squeaked as Carl’s grip tightened, but he decided to ignore Negan’s goading and focused on the road.

“Shut up,” you ordered flatly, too used to the song and dance to put any real energy into it.

Perhaps Negan was still grateful for the handjob or recognized the tiredness in your voice. Either way, he shut his mouth until the second he hopped out of the truck. He didn’t even have to take a step before the gate to Alexandria began to open.

Negan groaned and looked at you. “‘It’s better to be feared than to be loved.’” With a simple flick of his wrist, the rest of the crew followed you inside.

You entered the safe haven with crossed arms and Carl on your tail. “Machiavelli clearly said that if you conquer by ‘criminal virtue,’ you need to do so with great care.” You watched as Alexandrians ran into their homes at the sight of Negan. “You’re supposed to commit all of your cruelties at once and then be done or else your reputation will be stained and your people will become alienated.”

Negan only smirked. “Now tell me I’ve been a naughty boy.” He whistled a happy tune and hopped up onto Rick’s porch before whacking Lucille against the door. “If the guy gives me a speech about this,” he held up his left hand, “I swear I’m gonna kick him in the nuts.”

The person who opened the door was definitely not Rick. She would have had a sweet face if she didn’t look so scared. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore thick rimmed glasses.

Before you could get a word out, Negan shoved his way inside like a man on a mission. You followed him into the kitchen as the woman and Carl exchanged a few hushed words.

You took a solid grip of Negan’s forearm. “What did you do to her?”

“Pfft.” Negan batted your concern away with his hand. “We’re basically best friends. While you and Rick were having your ‘Hello, Old Friend,’ moment, this whole thing happened and I had to threaten to kill her.” He put a hand to his chest. “Personally, I think we all came out of it as better people. Took two seconds.” He snapped his fingers before he looked around the house. “Where’s Rick?”

The girl could only stammer. Whatever Negan had done to her, it had truly rattled her. “Um, I-”

“Don’t care!” he sang. “Now, where is he?”

“Out,” she sputtered. “He’s getting supplies. For you.”

Negan offered her a grin that was two steps short of sinister. “Sweet. Guess I’ll be putting my boots up.”

“He’s really far out. They might not even be back today.” Her lower lip had begun to tremble, but she fought to keep herself together. “We’re running low on everything. We have babies and young children that are almost starving. We all are.”

At this, Negan leaned back and raised his eyebrows, hazel eyes alight. “Starving?” By the look on his face, it was taking everything in him not to laugh. He jabbed a finger at her stomach. “You? By ‘practically,’” he made air quotations, “you mean, ‘not really.’”

That was the nail in the coffin.

As the woman’s face crumbled, you put a comforting hand on her back. “Let’s go outside.” You turned to Negan. “Fuck you,” you spat before ushering the poor soul out the door.

She tried her best to hold back her sobs as she sat down in a yellow rocking chair. You took the seat next to her.

“It’s okay,” you soothed. “You know how he is. Do you really care what _he_ thinks about you? And you know it’s not true.”

Her cries had quieted into sniffles. She nodded. “That’s true.” She looked up and smiled. “Thank you.”

You mirrored it. “You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

“Olivia. Who are you? You can’t be a Savior.” She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “You’re too nice.”

You had really wanted to avoid the subject, but it had been inevitable. “[Y/n.] We’re not all terrible. Most of us just want a place to rest our head. Unfortunately you have to deal with the less desirable crowd.”

She straightened her glasses. “I can’t believe you talked back to him like that and are still breathing.”

You looked down at the armrest. “He’s my husband.”

“ _What?_ ” You looked up and saw that Olivia was utterly repulsed. “How?”

“There’s more to him-” Olivia slapped you, stunning you into silence.

Standing up, she jabbed a finger in your face, a fierceness in her eyes that was nowhere to be seen seconds ago. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me he’s misunderstood!” She stormed off.

You sat there with your hand on your cheek and mouth agape. A single tear ran down your flaming red cheek as you stared out into the afternoon, too stunned to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so sweet and for reading. I am EXCITED for the next one.  
> 


	26. You're the Devil in Disguise

Like an old woman, you sat on the rocking chair on Rick’s porch, gently moving it back and forth as you tried to calm yourself down. The cheek Olivia slapped still stung something fierce, reminding you just how foolish you were.

It happened every time. You felt like a hamster on a wheel whenever you had to defend your relationship with Negan, when you had to defend your _association_ with Negan. The argument was getting old and you were getting tired. Either the rest of the world was wrong or you were, and based on the facts, you were the one looking like the jerk.

“Will you just look at this chubbers?”

Wearily you peaked between your fingers and looked at the door. Like a chump your heart melted as Negan held Judith above his head, looking up at her with a smile.

He turned to you. “It’s like a Cabbage Patch Kid and the Gerber Baby screwed each other!”

You stared at him. “Everything…e _verything_ is wrong with that sentence, but I unfortunately get the sentiment.” 

He shot you a lopsided grin. “That’s my girl.” He sat in the chair next to you, propping Judith on his lap. He gave her a bounce and she laughed. “How does Rick the Prick score so high in the kid department?” Negan winced when the little girl slapped his eye.

You let out a strangled sound that was between a loving coo and a cry of anguish. Just when you thought you had things sorted out, Negan turned your world upside down.

“What’s got you sounding like a donkey dropping a load?” Negan shed his jacket, hanging it over the back of his chair.

Taking your face out of your hands, you sat back. Negan’s eyes fell on your red cheek and puffy eyes, and you saw his muscles flex. He was ready to shoot of out the chair, baby be damned.

“Don’t,” you whispered. “She was upset.”

Negan let out an angry puff of air. “So she gets to _hit_ you?” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, a serene smile spread across his face and your stomach dropped. Anyone who knew Negan knew that when that deceptifully joyful beam played on his lips, the devil was about to come out and play. He looked at you. “Any excuse I get, she’s dead.” He turned back to Judith and stuck his tongue out.

“Okay.” You knew a lost cause when you saw one and you knew that you couldn’t change his mind on this one. “Can you pass her over?”

With a small grunt, Negan handed over Judith like a hot potato. “Try not to kill her.”

Spinning so that your legs were draped over the armrest, you set Judith down in your lap and enveloped her in your arms. “Hey, baby Grimes. What’s up?” Judith smiled, her pudgy cheeks dimpling in a way that made your heart melt. Your brow knitted together as you stared down at her. “It’s incredible; she doesn’t have a single hateful thought. She’s not vindictive, violent, or…” Your face scrunched as you tried to articulate your thoughts. “The earth hasn’t corrupted her yet. We say we’re the smartest beings, but people are the only ones who have those kind of feelings.”

“Sounds like you.” Negan stretched out, folding his arms behind his head.

Your head whipped up. “Is that really how you see me?”

Negan had his eyes closed, reclining like a sleepy cat. “Don’t fish for compliments. I already told you everything the last time we had our after school special moment.” He opened an eye. “Which I’m still recovering from, by the way. My dick lost an inch.”

“I love you.” Everything else melted away. Olivia? Olivia who?

His eyes still closed, Negan lazily raised a hand and waved you over.

Making sure you had a tight grip on Judith, you got up and sat down on Negan’s lap. Resting your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes and sighed. “Why did you say that to her?”

“Who, boom boom chubby choom choom?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

Negan rocked the chair with his foot. “Obviously I wanted to feel better about myself, so I projected my feelings onto her.”

You groaned into his chest, frustrated that you weren’t going to get a real answer. However, you did settle for a kiss on the head and an affectionate squeeze. The whole package. You had to accept the whole package, including the fact that he was an insensitive dickhead.

“You’re supposed to encourage and support your spouse. I don’t understand why you’re giving me the third degree.”

It wasn’t something you were supposed to laugh at, but you did. “I have to encourage and support you being mean to people?”

“I don’t make the rules, and that wasn’t mean. It was the truth. _How_ can you be overweight after the apocalypse?” He sounded truly mystified.

You rubbed Judith’s back. “I think she’s cute,” you said defiantly.

“Clearly you and I have different definitions.” He placed a wet kiss behind your ear, making you shiver. “Meaning I have a pair of fucking eyes.” He breathed on your wet skin.

“I’m going to give Judith back.” You reluctantly stood up and went into the house, keeping your head down. You didn’t want to run into Olivia out of pure guilt and shame. You dumped Judith in her crib and made it back to the porch undetected. Your eyes immediately turned to slits when you noticed Spencer hovering on the lawn.

“Just let me see him,” he demanded, but Arat wasn’t having it.

“I said ‘no,’” she bit back. God, you loved that girl.

Negan reluctantly got up from the chair. “Calm your tits, Arat. Let him up.”

You swallowed your objections and stood next to Negan, wrapping your arms around his bicep as a form of solidarity. You really disliked this guy and nothing good could come of this visit.

Coming up the stairs, Spencer held up a bottle of liquor. “We haven’t officially met yet. I’m Spencer Monroe.”

Negan’s jaw dropped. “Shit! Do you wanna marry me too?” When Spencer tilted his head, Negan laughed and pointed to you. “This adorable thing gave me a bottle of tequila worth a couple million dollars and now I have legal access to her pussy.”

Your face flushed as red as a tomato and you turned away. It was already an incredibly crass and personal thing to say, but to say it in front of another person, a stranger no less, was beyond embarrassing.

Spencer looked equally uncomfortable, opting to awkwardly hand over the bottle to Negan.

Negan ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Huh. Not $3 million tequila, but it will definitely get me feelin’ squirrely! There are glasses in the kitchen.” When Spencer didn’t move, Negan leaned forward. “Do you really think I’m going to ask my wife to get glasses like a goddamn housemaid?”

Swallowing his pride, Spencer shuffled inside.

Negan’s eyes followed him in. “I hate that guy.”

You watched Spencer disappear into the house through narrowed eyes. “Same.”

Spencer reappeared with three glasses. Taking one, you settled back onto Negan’s lap.

“Ah, that’s the stuff.” Negan watched as Spencer poured the amber liquid into his glass before he sat down. With a glare, Negan grabbed the bottle and filled yours as well.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for my sweet girl.” He looked over the houses. “Gonna get me a damn second home.” Spencer tried to clink glasses, but Negan ignored him. “Got a pool table? I really want to mess around with some balls.”

You spat your drink back into the glass and looked at Negan through narrow eyes, fully aware that he did it on purpose. He only sipped his drink with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Spencer pointed his drink towards the road. “That house has one.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not getting cooped up on such a nice day.” Negan gently tapped your lower back and you slid off him. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right.”

Whatever he was going to do, it was going to be stupid.

~*~

Somehow the pool table got in the middle of the goddamn road.  By now you had learned to stop questioning why Negan did the things he did and just go with it. You didn’t have the energy. So you watched as Spencer set up the balls for the break.

Negan sauntered around the table, pool cube in hand and a smile on his face. “This,” he dragged his finger between him and the table, “Rick would never be able to unclench and to do this. He’d be all moody, staring me down as he always does.” He looked at you. “Making goo goo eyes at my girl.”

Spencer looked up. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to talk about Rick.”

You immediately perked up. You didn’t like the tone of Spencer’s voice. Was he finally going to reveal his true colors?

Negan lined up the cue ball. “I am all ears, Spencer. What about Rick?”

Spencer fiddled with his pool cube. “Everything you’re doing, your leadership style…I get it.” He continued to speak as Negan broke the fifteen pool balls with a clink. “We differ on methods, but I see that you’re building a network.  Everyone’s contributing to a greater good.”

You watched as Negan continued to shoot the pool balls in the pocket, seemingly uninterested in Spencer’s words, acknowledging him with a few hums here and there. You were just stunned by the audacity Spencer had to go behind Rick’s back, but you didn’t say anything. This was Negan’s show and you were in the audience.

“Rick doesn’t play well with others. He wouldn’t fit into that kind of dynamic.”

“Really?” Negan drawled off-handedly.

Spencer nodded, rubbing chalk to the tip of his pool cube. “My mom started this place, but then Rick came. My entire family died.”

Negan stood back and grabbed his drink, watching as Spencer took his turn. “So ya’ll were just skippy until the prick rolls into town and you become little orphan Annie? That is one _serious_ kick to the balls. Thank Christ I’m here.”

Spencer shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Guy’s ego is out of control. He will find a way to screw things up. He always does. He took this place from my mom, and he’ll try to do the same with you.”

What the hell was this man asking, in front of the whole town no less? With every word that came from his mouth you became angrier. Grabbing the booze, you splashed another drink into your glass and dropped it down your gullet.

Negan looked at Spencer, calculating. He sucked at his teeth. “So what’s your master plan?”

Spencer stepped up to Negan, his chest puffed out in confidence. “I know how my mom ran this place. Alexandria needs a strong leader, the leader _you_ need.”

With a small smile, Negan leaned forward. “So I should put you in charge?”

“We’d be much better,” Spencer answered smugly.

With an amused grin, Negan took a sip of his drink.

The action was simple, but that face meant trouble. You knew him, and you knew that he wasn’t impressed. You also knew that your husband didn’t like cowards, and Spencer going behind Rick’s back was just about as yellowbellied as one could get.

Negan paced around the table. “You know, I’m thinking Spencer. I’m thinking about how Rick tried to kill me, how he clearly hates my guts.” He pointed towards the wall. “But he’s out haulin’ ass, gathering shit for me to make sure I don’t hurt any of you. He’s being a big boy, swallowing that hate and getting shit done.” He chuckled and aimed for the cue ball. “Dude’s got guts.” He took the shot and smiled when the ball sank in the pocket.

Negan sat the pool cue down and smiled in the most bloodthirsty way. He wagged a finger at Spencer. “And then there’s you.”

“Negan-”

He held up a hand, silencing you. “And then there’s you, the little bitch who trotted over to me while Rick was out, asking me to do his dirty work so he could sit his twink ass on the throne.”

You could have heard a pin drop as he sauntered up to Spencer. The entire town was frozen in place at the scene that was unfolding.

“You say you ‘get it.’” Negan shook his head. “There are three basic ways you become a leader. One,” he held up a finger, “by virtue. That means you get to be Mr. Big Dick based on your abilities. Then there’s fortune.” Negan held up a second finger. “This is when you just get lucky and the power’s kinda handed to you, like if you actually stepped up after your mom died and you had enough respect to inherit her position.” He held up the final finger. “Then, there’s the most effective way, which _really_ lights a fire under peoples’ asses, criminal virtue, where you take what you deserve because you know what’s right.”

Spencer looked like a goldfish as he stood there, confused and mouth agape.

Negan was only a few steps away from Spencer when he spoke. “So I’m wondering, why don’t you just kill Rick yourself and take over?” When Spencer could only sputter, Negan raised a hand like a child with a question. “You know what I’m thinking? ‘Cause I have a guess.” Leaning in, he said softly, “It’s ‘cause you got no guts.”

What happened next made your heart stop. With his ever present grin, Negan stabbed his knife into Spencer’s stomach.

You threw your hands over your mouth as Spencer began to choke. You didn’t like him, but he didn’t deserve a knife to the stomach.

Negan swiped the knife across Spencer’s midsection, disemboweling him as casually as one would fillet a fish. You screamed as Spencer’s intestines slid from his body in a red, slimy mess. They dropped to the ground in a juicy splat.

Your vision began to swim and your heart hammered against your chest. The animal instinct of fight or flight kicked in. Feeling the bile rise in your throat, you looked at Negan and felt nothing but unadulterated fear. Choking out a sob, you took off to the house.

Pushing passed Carl and Olivia, you bolted into the home and locked yourself in the bathroom before vomiting your insides into the toilet. Blood pounded in your ears and you heard shouts from outside and possibly a gunshot, but you didn’t care.

Suddenly, there was a pair of heavy footsteps. Someone was running down the hallway and stopped in front of the bathroom. It had to be Negan. Petrified, you crawled into the bathtub and curled into a ball.

“[Y/n]? Are you in there?” Relief flooded through you as the Georgian drawl caressed your ears. Reaching forward, you unlocked the door and Rick burst in. The whites of his eyes were massive as his head whipped around the bathroom, desperately trying to find you. When he finally turned to the bathtub, your lip trembled.

His blue eyes locked with yours, just as they had when he burst through a home full of flames to save you.

The old deputy sheriff practically dove into the tub. Draping his long legs over its side, he brought you into a tight embrace.

“I heard a gunshot,” you said into his chest.

“Everything’s fine,” he so obviously but sweetly lied, his voice raspy. “You’re fine.”

You shook your head. “No. No I’m not. I’m the furthest from fine.”

He rubbed your back as he tried to calm you down. “We can fix it.” He rested his cheek on the top of your head. “Just give me time.”

You shook your head. “You can’t save me, Rick.” You touched his cheek sadly. “There’ll always be a part of me that doesn’t want to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sponsored by insomnia, as most of these back to back updates are. I made sure to change a lot, as always.  
> Also, some threads get pretty long on here. I have a [tumblr](https://dennhomchikn.tumblr.com/). I always follow back if I know it's one of you.


	27. Come, Get Up My Baby

Rick’s heart fluttered as you nestled against his chest. Closing his eyes, he began to take deep, measured breaths. There was an endless list of reasons why you two wouldn’t work, the first being that you were both in committed relationships. The second was the fact that the person you were with was a certified maniac who would probably slaughter his family and friends if he tried anything. So he was forced to sit in the bathtub and pretend that he didn't feel a thing as the woman he was so desperately in love with sat curled against him. 

He rested his cheek on your head. Your hair always smelled so good.

Guilt filled him from his head to his toes, and he was relieved that no one knew about his feelings, although he had a sneaking suspicion that Carl had caught on. He was a sharp kid and they were each other’s only constants since the outbreak. Rick wondered what he thought about it. Michonne was Carl’s best friend, but he seemed to like you and understood how important you were to him.

Rick let his head lull back. It hit the wall with a small thunk. “Remember when you accidently shocked me with a taser?”

Your dull, sad eyes suddenly lit up and the corners of your lips twitched upward. “You moved like a jitterbug.” You put a hand over your friend’s heart, feeling affectionate at the absurd memory.

“Yeah, well, I had 25,000 volts of electricity running through me.” He chuckled, although it was tired.

“That’s fair.” You shifted, trying to get more comfortable. Your legs were tangled with Rick’s and you didn’t mind in the slightest. You sat in silence until you asked, “What happened with Shane?”

Rick was clearly caught off guard. A dark shadow fell across his face and the arm around you tightened. “He-uh,” he stared at the ground, “tried to kill me.”

“Oh my God.” You straightened up.

Rick rubbed his brow. “To make a long story short, he tricked my wife into thinking I had died. I got shot,” he explained before you could ask, “and then he moved in on her. Then I came back and he just couldn’t handle it.”

You put a hand on his cheek and kissed the other. “I’m sorry. I know you were close.”

Rick still couldn’t look at you. “No, he deserved it.” He looked at you, his eye shining. “I am so, _so_ sorry.”

For the first time, you felt the resentment and the hurt lift from your shoulders. “Thank you. It’s all right.” You hugged him with all of your strength.

“You should stay,” Rick said suddenly but unsurprisingly. “You saw what Negan did. You’re in here because you know what he is.”

You swallowed. “I _can’t_.” Your voice was desperate.

“You can. You have to.”

You shook your head. “Even if I wanted to leave, the little people at the Sanctuary would go back to being stepped on. Our business would fall apart-”

“You’re the one who runs the drug ring?” He looked nothing short of shocked. Rick looked at your arms. “Are you still-?”

“No, I haven’t used in months. Negan watches me like a hawk.”

Rick blinked. “Well, that’s…good.” The words clearly tasted bitter in his mouth, as if attributing anything positive to Negan was a mortal sin.

“That’s another reason I want to stay. I’m afraid I’ll relapse without his help.”

Rick shook his head. “No. Your sobriety, you did that by yourself. Don’t use that as an excuse to go back to him.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me.”

“You know I’ve always had it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, does he-does he treat you well?” he asked your shoes. The words were awkward and he was clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Like I walk on water.” You paused. “Of course, it’s not perfect. We really butted heads with his methods in the beginning, and still do now and again, but I learned that I have to take him as he is.”

It was clear that Rick was biting his tongue, and you loved him so much for doing so.

You both looked up when the door slowly swung open with an ominous creek. Negan gripped the top of the doorframe as he leaned into the room. Pursing his lips, he raised an eyebrow.

“What in the ever loving shit is going on in here?”

“We’re just talking-” Rick answered immediately, holding out a placating hand. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to explain further, because Negan ripped him from the tub by the collar and dragged him out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Rick grunted as he was tossed into the hallway. “I swear, we were only talking.”

“Get up.”

Rick got to his feet. “We can talk about this.”

Negan shook his head. “No, Rick. I’m going to talk and _you’re_ going to listen.” He pointed to the bathroom door. “See, I hear that sweet girl came running in here, practically pissing herself. Obviously I’m incredibly concerned and come barreling in as soon as I’m sure I’m not gonna get murdered by one of your guys. Again.” He pressed Lucille to Rick’s chest. “Then I open that door and I see you all hands-y with my goddamn wife.” Negan gave Rick a light shove with the bat. “So, I get to thinking, what kind of shit is this prick trying to pull?”

Rick didn’t bother to right his stumble. He stared at Negan, his blue eyes blown wide. “Wife?” he asked meekly.

A look of delight slowly crept onto Negan’s face. “That’s right. You-don’t-know!” Negan wiggled the fingers of his left hand. “We got _hitched!_ ”

Rick stared at Negan as if he was seeing right through him. His breaths were becoming dangerously shallow. “You can’t _force_ people-”

Negan held his hands out. “What is it with people thinking I forced her into this?” He squinted an eye and leaned on Lucille. “Is it really that hard to believe that someone could actually fall in love with me?”

“Seeing as you just shot one of my people, I think it’d be a little hard.”

Negan scowled. “That’s because Fudgey the Whale put her hands on her.” He pointed to the door. “She’s lucky it was so quick because I _so_ didn’t want it to be quick.”

At this, Rick was silent. Finally, he asked, “Do you even love her?”

“Do you?” When Rick didn’t answer, Negan’s eyes lit up. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “You still love her, don’t you?” Negan slapped a hand on his cheek. “Man, this must _really_ suck for you!” He stepped towards Rick until they were only inches apart. “Since I feel bad, I’m going to give you a pass on this one. But I swear to God if I see anything remotely like this again…” He gently swung Lucille a hair’s breath away from the side of Rick’s head and clicked his tongue.

You shrank into yourself as Negan stepped into the room.

“Oh, don’t do that. You’re breaking my heart.” He leaned Lucille against the wall before kneeling in front of the bathtub. He put a hand on each of your cheeks. “Now what’s got you pulling the overly dramatic tantrum?”

You licked your thumb and wiped a smudge of blood off his face. His eyes followed you, the domestic action for the dramatic situation amusing him.

“Disembowelment’s been used as a form of torture for centuries. It’s medieval.”

Negan crossed his eyes. “Are you really upset over _that_ guy? I thought you hated him?”

“That doesn’t mean he deserved to be murdered in cold blood.”

“Felt pretty warm to me, like Ton Ton sleeping bag kind of warm.” When you didn’t look impressed, Negan closed his eyes and let his forehead fall against yours, as he was wont to do. “I’m sorry I had to bring the hammer down while you were there. Okay?”

He wasn’t sorry that he had done it, not in the slightest. But he regretted that he had done it in front of you, and that was enough.

“Shit. You’re a real pain in my ass.” Negan stood up and offered you his hand. Rather than take it, you opened his palm and looked at the scar from the cut he had gotten at the chemical plant.

“I think I fell in love with you there,” you said thoughtfully, more to yourself than anyone, “subconsciously.” You traced the rough tissue with your fingers. “Everyone, _everyone_ tells me that I’m a fool for being with you, that you’re a monster. But I think you’re the first person who actually gives a shit about me.” You paused, gathering your thoughts. “Rick cares about me, perhaps just as much, but he wasn’t always there for me.”

Negan knelt back down. “I’m actually kinda digging the ol’ ball and chain.” He lifted your chin with two fingers and gave you an opened mouth kiss. Cupping the back of your head, he pushed you against him. You could already picture your bruised lips.

 “Come on. I even got us a new member.” He pulled you out of the tub.

You looked at him questioningly as you navigated your way out of Rick’s house. “A new member?”

Negan swung Lucille back and forth, much too relaxed for a man who was covered in blood. “Remember the robot man with the epic mullet from the woods?”

You were surprised. “Why him? He’s soft.”

“Knows how to make bullets.”

You weren’t expecting that. If it was true, having this man on your team would be a priceless advantage.

Negan’s hand was on your shoulder as you stepped outside. Your stomach rolled at the sight of Spencer’s body lying next to a lake of blood.

“You go wait in the truck. I need to thank Rick for being such a great host.”

Rick stood over Spencer’s body, looking just as lifeless. His skin was damp with sweat and his shirt was soaked through. You turned, wanting to say goodbye, but he shook his head.

Your heart shattered. It felt as if a rug was being pulled out from beneath you as your friend listlessly watched you go. It took everything in you to look away.

“Where’s the new guy?”

Negan looked over the convoy. “Back of the truck, bound with a bag over his head for drama. Why?”

It was exactly what you were expecting. “I want to sit with him.”

Negan looked at you, absolutely appalled. “You’re not going to sit in the back of a truck.”

“I am.”

Negan leaned back and looked out the sky, letting out an aggravating groan. “ _Fine_.” He straightened and placed a hand on your cheek. “You are too nice sometimes. Makes me want to upchuck.”

Humming, you kissed his hand before climbing into the truck.

The man jumped, unable to see you and startled by the noise. “Who’s there?”

“A friend,” you answered simply, sitting against the wall.

“I can assure you that no friend of mine would be in this truck,” the man answered, his monotone voice broken with a terrified voice crack here and there.

You smiled sadly. The poor guy was trembling and you would bet your life that he was crying. “Well, why don’t you give me a chance?  You might be surprised.”

The door to the truck was slammed shut and the guy jumped again. “You understand why I’m weary of believing you. Only 38.17% of Americans believe that most people can be trusted. You, on the other hand, are a Savior, which is an astounding variable.”

“I’m [Y/n].”

After a pause, he answered. “Eugene.”

The truck roared to life and the floor began to vibrate. “I’m going to take that bag off of your head, okay?”

“I would greatly appreciate it.” Shuffling over, your fingers only brushed against the cloth before Eugene jumped back. “Actually, I-I don’t think Negan would like it.”

You scoffed. “Negan’s gonna have to get over it.” You plucked the bag off and tossed it aside. The truck was dark except for the thin strip of light coming through the crack of the door, hiding the details of Eugene’s face.

“I admire courage because I have none, but not when it means I will be beaten to death. Please put the bag back on,” Eugene ordered.

“He’s my husband. He has to do what I say.” Based on the silence, Eugene was stunned.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“I just want to get to know you.”

Somehow you had felt it was your responsibility to look over Eugene. His kind of people didn’t survive very long among the Saviors, and those that did were treated like dirt. He was lucky that he had such a priceless skill, otherwise he would be chewed and spat out in a day.

When Eugene still didn’t seem convinced, you added, “Rick was a friend when I was in my 20s.”

Eugene shifted. “I think we might be able to exchange information in the near future.”

Before you could answer, the truck came to a stop.

“We must be there.”

“Please put the bag back on,” Eugene begged.

You shook your head. Negan wanted to strip Eugene of his dignity and it really pissed you off. You weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. You just hoped that what you told Eugene was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it.


	28. You Win Some, You Lose Some

The afternoon sunlight made your eyes sting. Both you and Eugene held up your forearms, shielding your eyes until they adjusted to the glare. Unfortunately, Eugene didn’t have very long because he was jerked out of the truck with a yelp.

Your pupils finally pinpricks, you followed him down, landing firmly on your feet. Taking in your surroundings, you saw that Negan had very much intended to humiliate Eugene. The leader of the Savior’s idea of a welcome wagon was a circle of judgmental, scary faces. He stood at the head, ready to receive his guest with an open armed reveal.

But the drama had been sullied and Negan sent you a glower that meant you were going to hear a few choice words later.

Eugene’s trembling had intensified by tenfold and the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. The whimpers broke your heart.

You took a gentle hold of his bicep. “Ignore them. Just come with me.”

“I-I believe that it’s most-most wise to listen to who’s in charge,” Eugene stammered. “As much as I don’t-don’t want to.”

You walked up the stairs to the Sanctuary. “I told you, Negan won’t do anything. It’s not your fault and I’ll take the blame if he’s really pissed.”

“Well, it is your fault.”

You shook your head in an effort to wake yourself up, mildly shocked at his attitude given the situation, but you decided to attribute it to stress.

“Are you going to kill me?” Eugene blubbered through sniffles, his split lower lip trembling.

You began to make your way up a flight of stairs. “No matter how much everyone makes you think so, unless you do something atrociously against the rules or disrespect Negan, you’re safe. You have a talent that is indispensable.”

“I will not argue with you there,” Eugene drawled, sounding a little bit better.

You stopped in front of one of the luxury apartment doors. Turning the knob, you slowly swung it open and Eugene froze, stunned at the scene before him.

It must have been the same look you had on your face when Negan had shown you around the Sanctuary on your first day. The memory made you smile and you couldn’t help but spin your ring with your thumb. It was astounding just how many things had changed, how many things had happened in the months since you had showed up in the yard, drenched and alone.

Negan had been scary, a real character, and a lot to take in on your first day. Now you would take a bullet for him, slept in his bed,  _loved_ him.  

The click of the refrigerator door ripped you from your thoughts. “Are you hungry? We have almost everything. I ate my weight in pasta my first night.”

Eugene closed the fridge. “That’s impossible,” he replied flatly. “You’d rupture your stomach before you even ate half of your weight.”

“Look, do you want it or not?”

Eugene had begun to wander around the room. “Yes. Thank you.”

Opening the door, you snagged the first person you saw and gave them the order. Closing the door, you saw Eugene running his fingertips down a row of books, caressing them as if they were buried treasure.

“I felt the same way. We have a whole library of them. Most people have to work for points to check them out, but you have the privilege to take whatever you want. I have a whole shelf full of books if you want to look through them.”

Eugene stood back. “I would very much enjoy that.” His cheeks had finally dried and he seemed to be more relaxed.

Feeling comfortable to leave him, you said, “If you need anything, just ask for me. Someone will be in here to show you around in a minute.”

Eugene nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality. I very much appreciate it.”

You smiled. “You’re welcome.” You left his room, closing the door gently behind you. Unsurprisingly, you heard the small click of the lock.

You were excited, thinking about all the possibilities of a social life now that Eugene was here. As you walked to your apartment, you silently hoped that Negan went easy on him. You knew that he wouldn’t punish Eugene nearly as easily as others in the building, but he was still a pill to be around and would give Eugene a hard time. Eugene was easily scared, and Negan was a pretty scary guy. Even when he was in a good mood, it was overwhelming. It took a certain kind of person to get along with him confidently, and there were very few. Somehow, you were one of them.

Your earlier assumption had been proved correct as you stepped into your living room; Negan was sitting on the couch, clearly waiting for you and eyes boring into your own. “Negan, I wasn’t going to let you-”

“Fat Joey’s dead,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. Fat Joey was one of the men who worked directly under Negan, and losing soldiers was always hard. “I know he was your friend and I thought you should hear it from me.”

You were rooted to the spot, your body unsure of what to do. “How?” you finally peeped. Joey always worked security and never left the base. He had one of the safest boots on the ground jobs the Saviors offered.

Negan sighed. “Daryl escaped. I have no fucking idea how, but he got out, killed him, and took off. I have my theories, but nothing concrete.”

You swiped under your eye with a finger. “All he did was look out for this place and eat M&M’s. He always shared.”

Negan opened an arm in a silent gesture and you took it. Taking a seat, you slid next to him, curling up against his side.

He buried his nose in your hair. “I know. I’m sorry, sweetgirl.” He sighed. “We’re gonna have to get another token fat guy.” His voice trailed off as if he was genuinely stressed.

“Kill him.”

“Hmm?” Negan tapped his ear. “You gotta speak up.”

You pulled away so that you could look him straight in the eye. Your face was as hard as stone as you spoke. “Kill Daryl.”

Negan ran his knuckles down your cheek. “Balls, sweet girl isn’t that sweet anymore, is she?” He pulled you back to him. “If I do, it won’t be on your behalf. I told you that this thing happened,” he swished a finger between the two of you, “because you’re the only one who hasn’t become a major dickhead. Having someone kill another for you puts you on the asshole list. Not only are you murdering someone, but you’re also being a pussy because you’re not doing it yourself.”

If Negan had more to say, he didn’t have a chance because you leaned forward and kissed him. This was the man behind the mask, the one no one else saw, the one he wouldn’t allow them to see. Him waiting for you to break the news about the death of your friend, being concerned about your morality, putting aside the fact that he was pissed at you,  _that_  was why you loved him.

He was also a handsome son of a bitch, but you liked to think of yourself above such shallowness.

There was a contrast between his rough stubble and soft lips that you always loved and it only made you pull him closer, placing your hands on either side of his face. Weaving your fingers into his hair, you slipped onto his lap, legs hugging his waist.

Negan hummed, clearly approving of your actions. Without a moment’s hesitation, he parted your lips with his tongue, demanding as he was in everything else, and it made your knees weak. One hand cupping the nape of your neck, he grabbed your backside, pulling you as close as he possibly could. The contact elicited the tiniest of sighs from him as every part of your bodies touched.

Pulling away, you admired how red his lips had become. As you tugged as his hair, you nibbled at his neck, placing a sweet kiss over his fast beating pulse.

“That feels fucking good,” he murmured, slipping his fingers up through your hair and sliding his other hand up your shirt, but then he retreated. Taking you by the wrists, he pulled your hands away and held them lightly in his hands, his expression pained. “I want to fucking chop my balls off for doing this, but I have to go and see Eugene.”

You whimpered, burying your face in his shoulder as you tried to accept the fact that you weren’t going to fuck Negan’s brains out.

“Hey, I don’t like it any more than you do,” he said. “I’d much rather be slammin’ ass, believe me.”

You kissed him, making him groan in misery. “Can I come?” you asked against his lips. “I think I make him feel better.”

Negan huffed in annoyance. “You know it’s low to ask a man something while you’re grinding his dick.” He held up a finger. “But no. You’re not apart of this kind of shit.”

“Negan-”

He put his finger to your lips. The look of desire had been replaced by a glare. “As husband and wife we are equal in every way and I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job at adhering to that principle. But there’s something you need to understand; I am still your boss. So you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do as a leader. You listen and you follow orders like everyone else in this place. It’s how it works and it’s how we’ve stayed alive, and having someone question me takes away that order and respect.”

You stood up. “Well, then get going.”

Negan followed. “Oh, you do not want to start something with me right now, not with all of this shit going on.”

“Oh, start something with you?” You jabbed a finger at your chest. “He was  _my_ friend!”

Negan only smiled. “Jesus, I really don’t like you right now. How did you do that?” He marched up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Just for you, I’m going to treat that guy like a real asshole.” And with that, he was gone.

And  _that_  was why people didn’t understand your relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but important! I hope you guys are still enjoying it this late in the game. I'm trying to make sure it doesn't become boring.


	29. Hellfire

You were curled up on the couch in your bedroom, the black leather cool against your skin. Your head rested against your forearm as you cradled your newest book mere inches from your face.  _Things Fall Apart_ was written by the Nigerian author, Chinua Achebe. The plot intertwined two stories, the leader of the Ibo Village’s fall from grace and his people’s violent struggle against late nineteenth century European colonialism.

It was the most intense book you’ve read since _The Lord of the Flies_ and it had strong themes of struggle, from cultural differences, masculinity, and the clash of change and tradition. You had been excited for Negan to read it, knowing that he would gobble it up in a night. You had salivated just at the thought of his interpretations of Okonkwo, but now he could shove the book up his ass.

Your fight had left you fuming and hurt, and you would have been more than happy to have the room to yourself for the rest of the day, if not the week. Never had you felt so patronized and disrespected. What really pissed you off was that Negan had a point – he _was_ still the leader of the Saviors and he still called the shots, but the way he had addressed you, as if you were a common foot soldier, was simply infuriating.

The only thing that kept you from storming out of the bedroom and into the wastelands was the fact that Negan _had_ been treating you as an equal in your relationship, asking for your opinions and never making important decisions that could affect you without your input. It was pleasantly surprising, to be treated so well, which made it all the worse to be stomped on.

There was a knock on the door. Normally, you would ignore it, but it was firm and insistent. Whoever it was, they had something important to say.

Putting your book down, you navigated through the apartment. Opening the door, you cocked your head.

“Laura, is everything okay?” You turned to see a familiar mullet standing next to her.

The blonde nodded. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Negan asked me to come and get you.”

You really didn’t appreciate Negan sending someone over to fetch you rather than get you himself. Hadn’t he told you earlier that having someone work on your behalf made you a pussy?

You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Why?”

Laura sighed, clearly a little distraught. “He specifically asked me not to tell you. Under any other circumstance, I would. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but-”

“You’re in between a rock and a hard place,” you finished kindly. “I understand. I’ll come without a fuss, but only for your sake.” Laura was one of the more even tempered Saviors and you had enjoyed the times you had talked to her. She had certainly helped you on your run to the chemical plant.

As you followed her out into the hallway, your mind whirred with possibilities. What the hell did Negan need to show you, and what was with all of the secrecy?

Your eyes flicked to Eugene. Your time together seemed to have helped. While he was still withdrawn and kept his eyes downcast, he no longer looked like an abused puppy at the pound.

“How are you feeling?”

“Absolutely terrified, but I no longer feel like I am going to die,” he replied in his usual monotone.

You nodded. “That’s great.”

The happiness you felt was sucked out of you as you stepped out onto the catwalk of the main hall. You immediately froze, staring at the scene before you.

“I’m sorry,” Laura apologized. She looked away, shamefaced. “I didn’t want to. He would have-”

“It’s not your fault,” you assured gently, not ripping your eyes away from what was before you. “Come on, Eugene. I think this is as much for you as it is for me.”

Your steps echoed as you slowly walked down the catwalk, dragging your hand loosely along the bannister. Your eyes scanned the backs of your fellow Saviors, their heads respectfully bowed as they kneeled on the hard, cold floor. Surely the roaring fire Negan was standing in front of was keeping them warm.

He faced away from you, staring into the flames. As much as you hated Negan, you couldn’t help but admire him. The light cast him in a sharp shadow, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow hips – the stereotypical body of an attractive man.

“Should-should I kneel?” Eugene asked meekly.

“No,” you answered curtly.

As you approached, Negan lifted his arms and everyone rose to their feet. He turned and looked up at you, his face dark.

“Well, now that everyone is here,” he ran a tired hand down his face. His wedding band glinted next to the embers as he slowly paced in front of the fire, Lucille sitting loyally over his shoulder. Finally, he stopped and pointed the bat to Eugene. “Keep your eyes peeled and snap on your listening ears, ‘cause boy, do I have a lesson to teach you.” His voice was uncomfortably even.

It was then that you recognized the white lab coat of Dr. Carson.

“No,” you whispered. You and Carson weren’t close and never talked unless you had a medical problem, but he had taken care of you during your overdose. Frankly, you were shocked Negan didn’t forgive whatever transgression due to to the fact. Whatever Carson had done, it must have been serious.

Before you could dissect the situation any further, Negan drew Lucille over his head, just like he had shown you in the woods, and smashed her against the doctor’s arm.

A hand flew over your mouth and Eugene grabbed your arm as Carson cried out, crumbling to his knees. He began to hyperventilate as he was dragged to Negan, realizing his fate.

“No, no, no, no,” he pleaded.

Negan simply stood there, relaxed as he silently watched the pitiful man be hauled across the floor, begging not to be tortured.

Eugene's vice grip on your bicep had begun to hurt, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him to let go. He had begun to tremble again and the whimpers had resurfaced. In all honesty, you had half a mind to join him.

“Why?” Carson choked. “I didn’t do anything!”

Negan chuckled. Holding up a piece of paper, he licked his lips. “Really? Because this says otherwise.”  He held it up to Carson’s nose. “Look familiar? It fucking should, because I found it in your desk.”

Dr. Carson sputtered. “I-I’ve never seen that before in my life. You’re…you don’t understand.” Time stood still when he realized the grave mistake he had made. “I mean, of course you understand,” he awkwardly tried to save himself.

Negan cleared his throat and grabbed his glove. “Dude, today is just not your day.”

You watched in stunned silence as Dwight heated the iron, staring blankly into the fire. There was a dismal air about him that wasn’t just from the iron, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

As Carson hugged his gut, wheezing and coughing, Negan stopped in front of him.

“You let my little birdie fly out of its cage because you knew that it wasn’t sitting right with Sherry. You wanted to be Mr. Macho Man,” he taunted. “Then you could just slide right in like the smooth guy that you are.” Negan jabbed a finger in his face. “You are one sneaky son of a bitch.”

You leaned forward. Sherry was the ex-wife who had paid you an impromptu visit to warn you about Negan. It didn’t surprise you that she was the one who let Daryl go – she clearly had a strong moral compass, and that was why you highly doubted that she would throw Dr. Carson to the wolves. There was a third party involved and Negan had the wrong man.

As you looked over the crowd, your eyes once again fell on Dwight and the pieces fell into place – what was making Dwight looking so morose and why Sherry would give Carson the time of day; Dwight had set him up and your husband was too damn hot headed to see it. You wanted to call out to him, to point out the truth, but you knew that would make things a thousand times worse. Questioning Negan, suggesting he was wrong, especially in front of all of his people and after a fight, would be a death sentence. So you had to watch the disaster unfold with your hands tied.

Carson immediately denied the accusations. “That isn’t at all what happened. She left, I’m still here…”

Negan reached forward and slapped a hand over the doctor’s mouth while bringing a finger over his own lips.

“Shh,” he smirked. “I don’t give two shits about Sherry. That’s old ass. I’m just pissed off that you pulled the wool over my eyes.” Negan gazed up at you with an untrustworthy grin. “My concerns lie with my beautiful wife.”

You met Negan’s eyes with suspicion as everyone’s face turned to you. Setting your jaw and squaring your shoulders, you readied yourself for whatever he had to throw your way.

Negan began to prowl around the doctor like a lion stalking its prey. “See, on his way out, Daryl gave us one final punch in the nuts and killed Fat Joey, who unfortunately was a good friend of hers.” He touched his heart. “It honestly just broke me up inside, losing one of my men and having to see my girl all broken up. I just had to do s _omething_.”

Negan genuinely sounded distraught and it was making you sick to your stomach. He was playing the role of a concerned husband so well. How many other times had he been putting on such a show?

As Dwight took the iron from the flames, Negan smiled and Carson began to beg for forgiveness.

Negan ignored his pitiful cries. “Oh, I am gonna iron you like linen if you don’t man up and apologize.” Taking the iron, he grabbed the doctor by the collar and held the iron right next to his cheek.

The doctor raised his arms. “Please, he whimpered, “I’m sorry.”

“What do you see in this man?”

You jumped and looked to Eugene. “Excuse me?”

Eugene’s lip was trembling and big fat tears were rolling out of his squinted eyes, but his voice was strong in conviction. “I asked you, what do you see in this man?”

“I-” your mind was a blank as you watched the twisted show.

Negan stood back and opened his arms. “Now was that hard?” He sighed and handed the iron off. Looking off at the ground, he looked like a man relieved.  It wasn’t until he turned his attention back to Carson that he frowned. “I really, _truly_ wish that we could end it here, and if it were up to me, we would.” He clapped a hand on Carson’s shoulder, looking at him with great pain. “But that girl up there,” he pointed at you, “is hurting, and I just-can’t-have-that!”

“Stop,” you said quietly.

Negan brought his hand to his face and twirled his wrist. “So I thought, what could I do, what kind of divine justice would be worthy enough for _her_?” His eyes locked with yours and he smiled. “This is for you, baby.” Gripping Carson’s shoulders, Negan hurled him headfirst

into

the

_**fire**._

You were gone before anyone noticed. The first time you had seen Negan iron someone, you had a strong visceral reaction. Everything had come crashing down on you – memories, feelings, and emotions you hadn’t felt in years. Now you found yourself in a state of shock. Your limbs were stiff and every step was a fight. You hoped that you would be able to find your way to the apartment because things were becoming fuzzy and confusing.

Fortunately, you stumbled against a familiar door and clumsily slipped your key inside the lock. Like a newborn foal, you wobbled across the living room and into the bedroom. The world had begun to spin and your heart was beating so fast that you were afraid it would burst out of your chest.

You were having another panic attack.

You knelt down and blindly reached under your bed. It took you a few seconds to find the dope and other supplies you had taped to the underside of the box spring.

Negan had given you an ominous threat about using again, but you didn’t give two flying fucks. He had just thrown an innocent man into a fireplace. He was going to do something terrible to you no matter what you did.

Climbing onto your bed, you placed the cotton and heroin onto the spoon. The silver had become black from use. Flicking on the lighter, the flame licked the bottom of the spoon and for a moment, you panicked, but the smell of the bubbling drug calmed you down.

You pulled the knot of the tie with your teeth and sank the needle into your vein. With a sigh, you turned onto your side and closed your eyes.

~*~

“First day of the police academy and we’re already breaking the law,” you observed, hugging your knees to your chest.

Rick reclined back, lying down on the windshield. “Technically we don’t start until tomorrow.” He stretched his legs across the hood of the car. Folding his arms behind his head, he looked at you. “I’m gonna raise some hell in the next,” he looked at his watch, “eleven hours.”

You shook your head. “You? No you’re not.”

He was able to keep a straight face until he met your eye. “Yeah,” he chuckled, “I’m not.”

It was nine at night and you were sitting on the hood of your car with Rick Grimes in Piedmont Park. You had parked in the middle of the meadow where cars were definitely not allowed. It was the night before your first day of your deputy sheriff’s training and you wanted to celebrate in style.

“I know this is a stereotype,” you gargled through a mouthful of devil’s food doughnut, “but I’m going use this job as an excuse to eat these every day.”

“You’d do it anyway.” Rick opened an arm and you lay down. Pulling you to his side, you rested your head on his shoulder.

He absent-mindedly ran his hand up and down your arm. “Are you nervous?”

“For our first day of school?”

Rick looked down at you with a blithe look in his eyes.  “Yeah.”

“Are you?”

Rick looked up at the stars. “No.” He looked back down at you. “Things are gonna work out. They always do.”

You lay a hand delicately on his cheek. “I love you and those Frank Sinatra eyes.”

His hands were in your hair in an instant, but the warmth you usually felt at his hands wasn’t there.

Instead, your body was encased in a gust of cold air as you were ripped away from the memory. Rick and the park were gone. Instead you sat in the pitch black, slumped against a hard wall with your conscious fading in and out.

Opening your eyes lazily and your vision wavering, you saw a figure standing against a swatch of light. In a bang, it disappeared. The last thing you heard before you passed out were receding footsteps and a lazy whistle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My motivation has been a little off for a few reasons, so I hope this came out fine.


	30. Baby Bird

You woke up in a groggy haze. Bringing your fingers up to your temple, you winced. A severe migraine ripped from your head all the way down to the base of your neck. You had no idea where you were, but you felt like you had been hit by a truck.

With a small moan, you cracked your eyes open and took in your surroundings.

You were slumped against a wall on a cold, cement floor. Darkness enveloped you, and the only light shined through a thin crack under the door.

Blindly reaching out, you swept your hands across the ground.

Empty.

Shuffling forward, you looked for the doorknob. Your hand clumsily smacked against the door several times before you realized that it was completely smooth. Then, it hit you;

You were in a prison cell.

Your hand balled into a fist and you began to pound on the door. “Negan, you son of a bitch! Let me out! I’m not a goddamn P.O.W.!” Immediately you winced and retreated back to your corner. Your voice had only made your migraine worse.

To your surprise, the door opened in a blinding light. With a small cry, you looked away. The light made it feel like your head was splitting in half.

“Keep quiet,” Dwight ordered.

You blinked, flinging your forearm protectively over your face. “What the hell, Dwight? Why am I being treated like a criminal? Where’s Negan?”

Dwight laughed softly. “You’re not going to see him and you don’t want to. I’ve never seen him so pissed.”

“What do you mean I’m not going to see him? We’re married,” you snapped. You were cold, hungry, and felt close to death. You didn’t have the patience to put up with lip from a subordinate.

Dwight scoffed. “Yeah, not for long.”

You sat up. “What does that mean?”

“It means Negan doesn’t give two shits about what happens to you.”

You held out your hands, only able to blink in confusion. “What has gotten into you?”  But Dwight was gone.

With a sigh, you lay down. There was nothing you could do but sleep, and you welcomed the idea of slipping into an unconscious abyss. You didn’t want to think about what Dwight meant about your relationship with Negan. You were still coming down and you didn’t have the mental capacity to understand such complexities. All you knew was that there was hurt, and that’s all you needed.

The days passed in a blur.

~*~

The sun was beating down on you, burning against your cheeks. You felt a drip of sweat slide down the back of your neck and under your collar. As you wiped it away, the cicadas chirped mercilessly in the Georgia heat.

Rick hung out of the driver’s window. “You need to get back inside. I don’t think you’re allowed to sit on the car on duty.”

You looked over your shoulder. Rick’s uniform was sticking to his chest and his forehead was damp with sweat, yet his eyes were bright, as they always were when he looked at you.

“I’m not sitting in a car with a broken air conditioner. You’ll have to arrest me.” There was no way in hell you were going into that searing hot car unless you absolutely had to.

“Yeah, I’m gonna.” Rick swung back into the car, draping one arm out the window. Before you could reply, he lay on the horn. The noise startled you, making you jump several inches into the air, sprawling out on the hood. The glare you sent Rick was deadly. He only shrugged. “I won’t stop until you get in.” To prove a point, he hit the horn again. Finally, you jumped off.

You got back into the car with a scowl. “Why would you do that?”

Rick was calm, as usual. He opened his hands against the steering wheel. “You can’t pull stuff like that anymore. We’re working.”

“What do you mean pull? I was just hot.”

“I am just saying,” Rick explained slowly, “that you can get a little excited and not think things through.”

You nodded. “You mean I’m impulsive?”

It was clear that Rick was choosing his words carefully. “I just don’t think you always make the right decisions all the time, which is like _everyone_ ,” he added hastily. “But sometimes, like now-” He was trying _so hard_ to reprimand you without breaking your heart and it was adorable.

“Rick Grimes.” He turned to you, clearly distraught. “It’s fine.” You leaned over and pressed your lips to his. They were soft and salty from sweat, but you didn’t care. He cupped your face as he pulled you towards him, running his thumb up and down your cheek.

Pulling away, you leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes. “Shouldn’t be doing that on duty, either.”

He let out a charming, breathy laugh and shook his head. “No, probably not.” He kissed the top of your head. “We have to be careful. If they figure out we’re together, they’ll split us up.”

Your face turned sour. “You could always work with Shane.”

Rick pulled away. “Please don’t start with that.”

“He’s trouble, Rick.”

Rick licked his lips. “He’s a little rough around the edges, but I’ve known him almost my entire life. He’s a good guy.”

You slid down in your seat. “I don’t like the way he looks at women. I think he’s volatile and dangerous.”

Rick shrugged. “Everyone has their demons.” He looked at you. “I’m sure you know someone who’s a little less than perfect.”

Crossing your arms, you looked out the window. “No, I don’t, and I never will.”

~*~

It was an incredibly hard thing for Negan to show vulnerability. In fact, it was against his job to do so. The second he gave the hint of softness was when his people would no longer fear him. Of course he had never been a touchy feely man. Negan did not have a shoulder that you could cry on. So that was why he visited your cell after 10PM, the curfew for everyone inside the Sanctuary.

Every night Negan would slip away from whatever he was doing and sit outside your cell. He made sure to never make a sound; you couldn’t know how obscenely worried he was about you.  You needed to be taught a lesson. He couldn’t iron you and putting you in solitary confinement was the only punishment he could think of.

You were above the iron, but not above the law. If you pulled stupid shit, you suffered the consequences, and shooting heroin was the fucking _definition_ of stupid shit.

After he had tossed Carson in the fire, Negan had looked up to see the look on your face, to see if he had made his point, if you understood that he was the one in charge – but you had disappeared. He had hoped for tears or maybe even a scream, but you taking off was not a good sign.

Negan kept his cool, as he always did, and finished his business with the demonstration. It wasn’t until he was on the top floor and out of sight that he allowed himself to panic. The last time you had run away he had found you on the floor, two seconds away from dying.

His intuition had been correct – your dumbass had gotten high. Negan’s heart had seized up when he saw you lying there on the bed, groggy and surrounded by drug paraphilia. Of _course_ he had to kill their only goddamn doctor.

Panic gave way to a much more familiar and comfortable emotion – anger, when he checked your pulse. Your heartbeat was strong and you were breathing easily. You hadn’t overdosed.

You were so lucky he loved you. If you had been anyone else, he would have killed you on the spot.

Yes, the insinuation he had made during your first trip to Alexandria was a declaration of love. He would never say it out loud, of course. Love was the most crippling, _soft_ emotion a human could feel. It had been very easy for him to pass you off as another piece of ass to the Saviors and he couldn’t risk anyone getting wise. Plus, as soon as you said those three words, you gave up your power to the other person, and that was never going to happen.

You knew how he felt and he wasn’t going to act like a little bitch to tell you something you already knew.

Locking you up was just as much for Negan as it was for you. You reminded him of a baby bird, the brave dumbass one that thought it could fly before it even had feathers. It was small, frail, and helpless. Of course you were as tough as nails, but over protective, anxious spouses weren’t very logical. He wished he could tuck you away in a bell jar or some crazy shit where no one could touch you. Unbeknownst to you, he had Saviors watching you from a distance while you were outside, sniper rifles at the ready for anyone or anything that could cause you harm.

To many, actually, all – this would sound disturbingly uncharacteristic, but nobody knew about Negan’s past. He had already lost someone and it had knocked the breath out of him. He had already been broken once and he could not go through it again.

With a small sigh, he slid down your door and sat on the ground.

He was in for another long night.

“Hi.”

“ _Shit!_ ” Negan leapt to his feet, completely caught by surprise and ready for a fight. He raised Lucille over his head, ready to smash her against your door to give you a taste of your own medicine, when he realized that it would attract too much attention.

Plus, you hadn’t tried to scare him on purpose, right?

Letting his arm drop to his side, Negan rubbed at his eyes. “How the fuck did you know I was here?”

“I recognized your footsteps.”

“Shit, that’s creepy.” He pressed his forehead against the door and closed his eyes. He hadn’t heard your voice in a long time.

There was a shuffle from behind the door as if you were trying to make yourself comfortable. “So are you going to get me out of here?”

As much as Negan missed you, the image of you with blue lips and no heartbeat made him feel a pang of fear. It only took a moment for it to turn into anger.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ die in there,” he answered. “I’m done dealing with your tweaker bullshit.” There was a bang from where you must have smacked your fist against the door.

“You don’t solve your problems by tossing me in a goddamn hole!”

Your voice was laced with the fire that Negan loved. It was the sound that said you could rip his dick off with your bare hands and he _so_ digged it.

He stabbed his finger against the door. “You’re staying in there until your stubborn ass learns to ‘say no to drugs.’ I am going to make your life an absolute _hell_ until you get it, because I’m officially over it.”

“Can you at least stay for a bit?”

You didn’t know that he always stayed the night with you, so it was easy for Negan to play it off.

“If it will calm your ass down.” Slipping his jacket off, he sank to the ground. Looking over his shoulder, he stared at the bottom of the door, debating on his next move.

You sat in your cell, curled up flush against the door as you tried to get as close to Negan as you possibly could. You looked down when there was a small whisper against the floor.

Negan’s fingertip’s poked out from under the door.

You touched them with your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was waiting for such a long time to write his side. I'm having a lot of fun showing just how out of control this relationship is.
> 
> Again, this is my [tumblr](https://dennhomchikn.tumblr.com/). I'm only pushing it because a few people have followed me and the shenanigans are real.


	31. Sick

Hunger strikes were deeply rooted in history, spanning across every race, gender, and creed. They were used as a non-violent method of resistance, usually as a political protest. Gandhi famously fasted to protest the British rule of India and the 1981 Irish hunger strike was notorious.

You kicked yet another mystery loaf away for a more personal reason; you just wanted to get the hell out of your jail cell. The bread rolled across the floor and fell among the pile of its brothers and sisters. You were lucky that you weren’t being served dog food. You didn’t know if you would have been able to stomach the smell.

It had been five days since you had eaten and your body had begun to resort to drastic measures. It had run out of glucose and began to burn fat. Your pants were already sitting loosely around your hips and your shirt felt bigger. You were weak, too dizzy to stand up on your own due to starvation. So you lay on the ground, sleeping as much as you could. Surely they wouldn’t let you die in here.

Right?

Strangely, you had still managed to vomit out your insides. You didn’t know how or why, but your body had decided to go on a strike of its own, refusing to keep down almost all of the water you drank. It left you dehydrated and weak. Luckily someone was always there to clean up after you, but that didn’t make it less disgusting.

You hadn’t seen Negan since he had first visited you. Unaware that he spent every night mere inches away, you thought he had abandoned you.  Not only were you starved and weak, you were pissed and heartbroken.

Being behind bars gave you an endless amount of time with your thoughts. The man who had gutted Spencer like a pig had given you three panic attacks. What was even more unsettling was how blasé Negan had been afterward.

You couldn’t close your eyes without remembering the woods, where he giddily beat two men on their knees to a bloody pulp.

You realized that you were truly afraid of Negan. You knew that he was a sadistic lunatic who murdered people as easily as one blinked an eye. You no longer felt safe around him.

But you were still stupidly in love with him.

The sound of his voice gave you the energy to sit up.

He was talking to someone in the next cell. You didn’t even remember getting a neighbor. To be fair, a bomb could have been dropped and you wouldn’t have noticed. You had been existing through a haze of semi-consciousness.

It took everything in you to drag yourself across the floor and press your ear against the wall. Unsurprisingly, you still couldn’t hear anything through the concrete. Even Negan’s usual boom was muffled through the thick walls. With a sigh, you slid down onto the floor, deflated and dejected.

You only lifted your head when you were bathed in afternoon light.

Negan stared at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement on his face. Slowly, he knelt down. “Man,” he said quietly. “You look like shit.”

You looked at him tiredly, excited to see him. Naturally, you spat in his face.

“Fuck you.” You looked around the cell, appalled. “Who does this?”

“Hey!” Negan shouted, making you wince. He wiped his cheek, fire in his eyes and ready for a fight, but one look at you and the tension left his body.

You had completely slumped over, with your chin touching your chest and your eyes drooping woozily. Your hands fell onto your lap with a heavy thump.

“Balls,” Negan swore. “Hey.” His voice had softened as he lifted your chin up.

You blinked drowsily, only able to hum in acknowledgement.

“Are you done chasing that goddamn dragon?” Negan jabbed his chin at your arm. When you nodded, he sighed. “Okay. Well, looks like I’m gonna be fucking Seabiscuit.”

“What?”

Negan turned around. “Hop the hell on because you’re sure as shit not going to be walking anywhere anytime soon.”

With all of your strength, you climbed onto Negan’s back. Hooking his arms around your legs, he stood up in one smooth motion. With Lucille under his arm, he carried you out of that godforsaken prison.

With a sigh, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your face into the soft cotton of his shirt. Negan smelled good, as he always did.

“I thought you were going to jam it up my ass the second I let you out,” Negan said as he navigated through the Sanctuary’s halls.

“Not now.” It was already taking all of your energy to hold onto him. “I heard you talking to someone in the next cell over.” You felt Negan’s chuckle.

“My new girlfriend.”

Your arms tightened around his neck. “What?”

Negan scoffed, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. “Did you lose your sense of humor while you were in there? You’re the only pair of panties I’m dropping.”

It didn’t take long to reach your room. With an unceremonious huff, he dropped you onto the bed.

As soon as your skin touched the soft covers, you closed your eyes. You had forgotten what basic comfort had felt like.

“Don’t go all sleeping beauty on me. I know you were being a stubborn asshole and starving yourself.”

You cracked open an eye at a soft thump. Negan had tossed an orange onto the bed. “Don’t tell me your dramatic ass wouldn’t try something if you were being tortured.” You knew you had made a mistake as soon as the words had left your mouth.

Negan stood by the window, drink already in hand. At your words he smiled like the devil himself

He cocked his head. “You know, I worked with a kid whose dad was an alcoholic. He would come home every Saturday night, piss ass drunk after blowing all of his money on booze.” He narrowed his eyes and slowly crossed the room. “Do you know what that piece of shit did?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer that he knew was not going to come. When you stayed quiet, he continued. “He asked the kid where he wanted to live. Obviously, he said with his mom. But Drunky McSkunky scared him, saying that she could only afford a dog house.”

He stood next to you. “I had to convince this little kid that he wouldn’t live in a goddamn _dog house_.” He took a sip of his drink. “You addicts just fuck everyone around you, and when we call you on your shit,” his voice was getting louder, “we’re suddenly the bad guy!”

You had sunk into yourself. “I’m not saying-”

Negan put the glass on the side table. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t ship you off to some rehab center in Malibu. Things are a little tough, in case you haven’t noticed.” He held your face between his thumb and pointer finger. “I _saved_ you. That’s what I do, and you should be kissing my ass for it.”

You didn’t know what to say, so maybe it was an act of divine intervention when you vomited into your lap.

Negan jumped back. “Shit!”

Exhausted, sick, and emotionally strained, your buried your face in your hands.

At the sight of your shaking shoulders, Negan put his fingers to his temple. “Get changed. We’re seeing Carson.”

“You murdered him.” Your voice had a noticeable bite to it.

Negan smirked. “I snagged his brother. He’s a bit of a cutie, too.” With a wink, Negan went to,snag you a change of clothes.

~*~

He was right, the new doctor was easy on the eyes. Dr. Carson was a lithe man with light chestnut hair and intelligent blue eyes. He had the type of face you would expect of a doctor, kind and trustworthy.

He didn’t belong in the Sanctuary.

“Hey, doc!” Negan greeted as he burst through the door to the infirmary. “I got you your first patient and she’s a big one.” He gently placed you on the examination table. “She’s my wife.” Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “So don’t get too hands-y.”

Dr. Carson looked up from his clipboard. “How can I help you?”

You sat on the edge of the table, swaying side to side. “Throwing up,” was all you managed.

Negan touched a hand to the doctor’s chest. “She has a bit of drug problem and  had to go into time out.” He rolled his eyes. “There was this whole _starving_ thing.”

Dr. Carson’s eyes bugged. “She’s an addict?”

Negan leaned against the table. “Was. She’s sober now after a few days of lockup.”

It took Carson a second to process the information. It was a lot to take in on his first day, but he was bright and it didn’t take him long to catch up.

“Well, it’s definitely interesting that you’re vomiting on an empty stomach.”  He stepped in front of you and knelt down. “Your mouth is dry and I’m assuming you’re dizzy?”

You nodded.

“Definitely dehydrated. You’ll need to stay here and get an IV in immediately.” Reaching into a cabinet, Dr. Carson took out a form and snapped it to his clipboard. Pulling a stool over, he sat in front of you. “Have you had any soreness or general aches and pains?”

Negan snorted. “No shit. She’s been in a cell.”

You shook your head and waved your hand, motioning Carson to ignore him. “Yes.”

Negan looked down his nose at you. “You never told me that.”

You looked up at him through your hair. “I’m not gonna bitch to you over that.”

“Aw, baby.” Negan pressed you into his shoulder and kissed the top of your head.

Dr. Carson’s blue eyes passed between you, confounded by the dynamic as everyone tended to be. “Well,” he began slowly, “next time you’re not feeling well, say something.” He turned to Negan. “Same goes for you.”

With a smile, Negan lightly tossed Lucille straight into the air, catching her easily. “You got it.” He looked back down at you. “So what the hell’s wrong with her?”

Dr. Carson smiled. “She’s just severely hydrated. One night in here and I’ll get her on some fluids. She should be good by morning.”

Negan held his hands out. “Well, isn’t that just peaches?”

Scribbling something onto his notepad, Carson explained, “I’m going to ask for some medical background information and it’s customary that I keep doctor patient confidentiality.”

Negan raised an eyebrow. “What the shit?

Dr. Carson smiled. “The world might be dead, but I like to think that basic medical practices aren’t.”

You brushed your fingers through Negan’s hair. “I’ll be fine. You have an empire to run.”

Negan hiked Lucille over his shoulder and looked at the doctor suspiciously. He sucked at his teeth. “I’ll be back tonight.” He pointed at Carson and smiled. “You take care of her.”

“Bye,” you smiled weakly.

Cupping the nape of your neck, Negan kissed your forehead.

When the door closed behind your fearless leader, you turned to Dr. Carson. “Why’d you really send him out?”

Dr. Carson chuckled. “You’re sharp. I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out.” He put his clipboard down. “I think I know what’s wrong and if I’m right, you need to decide how to proceed without outside pressure.”

You leaned forward, beginning to feel anxious. “Okay. What is it?”

“Have you ever heard of hyperemesis gravidarum?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second you think it can't get more emotional and complicated. I will make it more emotional and complicated.
> 
> I'm thrilled by all of the feedback for the last two chapters. It's wonderful to see how excited everyone is with the direction of the plot. Thank you so much!


	32. Stuck in the Middle With You

You felt as if you were underwater. You were weightless, floating somewhere you didn’t belong. Dr. Carson’s voice was muffled and warped, as if he was speaking some kind of alien language. He had become indiscernible after he had said “extreme morning sickness.”

The sharp prick in your arm ripped you from your thoughts. You didn’t remember getting any of your needles. As far as you knew, all of your supplies had been destroyed…

“Do you understand what I’ve told you?” Dr. Carson asked gently, wrapping some medical gauze around your arm, making sure that the IV stayed in place.

Your eyelashes fluttered. “Not a single thing.”

Dr. Carson pulled up his stool and sat down. At eye level, you were immediately less anxious.

The guy was good.

“We won’t know anything for sure until we get you hydrated and check your hormone levels, but I was a seasoned OB/GYN before all of this and it’s really looking like hyperemesis gravidarum.”

You massaged the bridge of your nose, slowly shaking your head. “Fuck me.”

“I’m guessing this wasn’t intentional,” he gestured towards you, “based on your enthusiasm.”

You opened an eye. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Whoa,” Dr. Carson smiled lightly, “I didn’t take you as foul mouthed.”

You lay back against your pillow. “I’m not. The company I keep has just been rubbing off on me.”

Dr. Carson nodded. “The road to recovery is a better diet and rest. What we need to talk about is what you want to do. It’s not the greatest world to raise a kid right now, _especially_ with-”

“You know I’m married to him right?” Even when you were sick, you could still glower.

Dr. Carson looked away, shamefaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insulting.”

“I want to talk with Negan before I decide anything.”

“Well, all right then.” The doctor held his hands out, palm side up. “We’ll wait for dad.”

You put your hand on your forehead. “Jesus Christ.”

“You’ll eat once the vomiting goes down to two to three times a day. I’ll be acclimating myself with the inventory in the next room. Holler if you need me.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a cry of anguish. You did not need another layer on the shit cake that was your relationship, but you were just dealt with the worst possible hand. The situation was already horrendous to begin with, having to decide whether you had the strength to raise a child in the world of the dead, to decide whether it was even a world _worth_ to be brought into.

Although you had given Dr. Carson a hard time, the aspect that terrified you the most was Negan’s role. He was a cold blooded murderer who ran a totalitarian empire based on Machiavellian principles. He coveted violence, was vulgar to a fault, bullheaded, and all around terrifying.

He had also worked with children in the past and whether you agreed with his methods or not, the Sanctuary was flourishing. Negan was protective to a fault and seemed to genuinely want to take care of people, in whatever warped way he did. He certainly had no obligation to put up with your drug habit and he was certainly the smartest person you had come across after the outbreak.

No closer to an answer, you rolled over and pulled the covers up to your chin.

Your worrying made the day go by in a flash. Daylight was fading and you were already feeling better. You were still nauseous, but you felt your strength coming back. The room was no longer spinning and it wasn’t a struggle to keep your head up. You would be looking on the bright side if you weren’t going to have a kid after the apocalypse with someone who utterly terrified you.

It was official; Dr. Carson had been able to measure your hCG levels and in medical terms, you were royally fucked.

Your eyes flicked upward at the creak of the door.

“Negan,” you breathed.

He opened his arms, looking smug. “That’s what they call me.” When you didn’t laugh, Negan’s tongue poked out from between his teeth. He squinted suspiciously as he took a step forward. “Are you dying or something because the atmosphere in this room is really starting to bum me out.”

You held out a hand. “Come here.”

With a mixed look of misgiving and amusement, he stepped across the room. “If he just figured out you were stupid, it was a waste of time. I could have told him that.”

You placed your hands on his shaggy cheeks. “I need you to be serious for five minutes.”

He wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “Oh, shit. Are you dying?”

You lightly shook his head. “I asked you to be serious.” Maybe it was the hint of desperation in your voice, but Negan’s grin melted from his face.

“You okay?” There was an earnestness that truly surprised you and for a moment, you forgot what you were going to say.

You told him the truth. “I don’t know.”

“Are you sick? Where’s that dipshit doctor?”  Negan turned, ready to storm off and rip Dr. Carson from wherever he was. His sudden flux of anger was unexpected, and you reached for him out of reflex.

“I’m around six weeks pregnant,” you blurted.

For a brief moment, Negan looked like he had been slapped in the face. He blinked owlishly and ran his tongue down the inside of his cheek.

“Huh.” He rested Lucille against the wall. Wordlessly, he slid down the side of your bed and sat on the floor. “You sure?”

You didn’t know what Negan’s reaction was going to be, but you were sure it would have been over the top; so the calm man perched on the ground left you dumbfounded.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Closing his eyes, Negan’s lips stretched into a dopey smile. His head lulled back. “That’s awesome.”

You couldn’t help a small smile. “Really?”

“You shittin’ me? I worked with kids because I like them, and I’m sick of No Dick having all of the cool pups.” He looked up at you and curled his lip. “Do you not understand just how utterly badass that dude is gonna be?”

 “What do you want to do?”

Negan shrugged. “Already shot it out of my nuts, kind of out of my hands.” He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “Be cool as shit, though.”

You reached forward and scratched his head. “Let’s do it.”

“I was going to tell you this anyway, but you’re officially out of the ring. I already have the lab and storage locked up.” Negan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not leaving home base, unless it’s with me.”

You sighed in aggravation. The stipulations were frustrating and you knew that you were going to go stir crazy being confined to the Sanctuary.

“Can I at least stay on patrol? I’ll still be here.”

Negan stood up. “Hey, asshole, it’s not just about you anymore.” At your pout he sighed. “Fine.”

You both turned when Dr. Carson came back into the room. “Did we make a decision?”

With a roughish grin, Negan opened his hands. “Just call me daddy.”

Dr. Carson nodded, looking a little uncomfortable at the innuendo. “Okay then. Well, we have to go over antenatal care. We’ll have to improvise on some things since times have changed, but I think you can get through this smoothly.”

~*~

Negan was always one to put on a show. He would be the first to admit that he loved attention. It didn’t matter if his onlookers were staring daggers. If all eyes were on him, Negan was a happy guy. So it was quite odd for the fearless leader of the Saviors to be sneaking into Alexandria via the back at dusk.

He always brought out the full dog and pony show when he made this run. These guys were tricky; as much as he scared them, he always felt hostility, but it made it oh so much more fun to break them. Of course the real thing that got Negan going was Rick.

The guy had been a titan and Negan crushed him like the worker bee that he was. The guy’s ego was out of this world. Fuck, he had threatened to _kill_ him while surrounded by an army of Saviors.

Negan put him in his place, of course. The thought of the trembling, broken man made him smile.

But what _really_ gargled Negan’s balls was that he snagged the dude’s childhood sweetheart. Oh, did that feel good.

Negan gazed up at the wall before chancing a look at Lucille.

“Damn it,” he swore. He hated leaving his girl behind, but he couldn’t climb a wall while holding a bat and he certainly couldn’t toss her over. “Sorry, baby.” Leaning her against the sheet metal with all of the reservations in the world, he began to scale the wall.

He landed on the other side with a grunt. Straightening up, he saw that he was in a backyard, which was good. For Once Negan didn’t want his presence to be known. It wasn’t his strong suit, but it didn’t take him long to sleuth his way over to Rick’s house.

Hopping up the porch steps like a schoolboy, Negan began to hum ‘Hello, Old Friend’ because he was one hilarious guy. Knocking to it would be pretty damn funny as well and he knew it would really piss Rick off.

So he did.

When the door opened and he was met with that dirty Santa beard, he grinned. “It's really good to see you once again!’” he quoted.

Rick took a step back, clearly surprised to have Negan show up at his doorstep. He blinked. “Wh-what are you,” he shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “We don’t have-”

Negan pushed passed the stuttering sheriff. “Not here for your shit, Rick. This is a social call!”

Carl stepped into the foyer, Michonne hot on his heels. “Dad, what’s going on?”

Rick held out a hand. “It’s fine, Carl.”

“Oh,” Negan pointed a finger at Michonne, whose hand had instinctually whispered against her sword handle. “Don’t do that.” He looked around. “Where’s the baby?”

Michonne stepped forward. “What do you want?”

Negan held up his hands. “Ho-ly shit, I’m just here to see the kid.”

“Why?” As afraid of Negan as Rick was, his fatherly instincts put a viciousness in his voice.

Negan winced. “I’m going to ignore the ‘tude and just assume she’s in her room.” Without waiting for an answer, he clomped up the stairs.

“I’ll handle it,” Rick said quietly. “He doesn’t have the bat.”

Michonne wasn’t eased. “That doesn’t mean he’s unharmed. _What_ is going on?”

Rick shook his head. “I have no idea, but we have to stay calm. I doubt he came here alone.”

“Do you think something happened to [Y/n]?” Carl asked, looking worried.

Rick didn’t answer.

Negan had been honest when he told you that having a kid would be awesome, but he had conveniently left out one of the reasons why the news had left him walking on sunshine.

He couldn’t wait to jam it in Rick Grimes’ face.

Negan slipped into Judith’s room quietly, but the baby still greeted him with a happy gurgle.

“Well, hey there, princess,” he crooned. “Let’s get your ass out of that crib.” With all of the gentleness in the world, Negan plucked Judith out of her bed and held her against his chest. She laughed when he gave her a little bounce.

Rick stopped in his tracks when he saw his daughter in the clutches of his foe.

“Tell me something Rick,” Negan asked without turning around, “how the shit did you end up with such a cute kid with a face like yours?”

Rick wasn’t in the mood for playing games. “What do you want?”

Negan turned. “Is it really that hard to believe I just felt like droppin’ in?”

“Yes,” Rick answered dryly, hooking a thumb in his holster belt.

His eyes blissfully closed, Negan touched his nose to Judith’s hair. “Why do their head’s always smell so damn good?” He looked at Rick. “How was her momma’s mood while toting this thing around?”

Rick ground his teeth. “I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.” The subject was already painful enough, but for it to be brought up by such a scumbag was making him see red.

Negan kept his eyes on Judith as he spoke. “I’m just wondering. I was in need of advice and this lil’ peanut immediately came to mind.” He widened his eyes when Judith grabbed his nose.

“What?” Rick stepped into the room, cocking his head like a confused puppy.

Negan turned, wearing a faux look of innocence. “Oh, that doesn’t make sense if I don’t put it into context. I’m gonna be a daddy, and not just in bed. Like, I’m actually going to have a kid.” He pressed Judith into the crook of his neck. “Piss and shit and all.”

Negan was lucky he looked up, because he would have taken a nasty left hook to the jaw.

Jumping to the side, he held Judith in front of his face.

“Hiding behind a kid?” Rick spat.

Negan peaked behind Judith’s wriggling body, his eyes sparkling. “It’s fucking working, isn’t it?”

Rick’s nostril’s flared and his neck flushed red. If his baby girl wasn’t hovering between him and Negan, the guy would be dead. “How could you-”

“With the big ol’ dick in my pants.”

“So what, did you come here to gloat?” Rick’s knuckles were white.

Negan squinted an eye as he thought. “Yeah.” Shoving Judith into Rick’s chest, he smirked. “Now me and this big dick got a girl to take care of.”

Rick was too rattled for a comeback and he was alone with his daughter before he knew it. With a shuttered breath, he lay her back down and wiped his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support for this has been obscene. Thank you.


	33. Fix You

The stars had just started to pepper the sky when Negan got back to the Sanctuary. His timing was absolutely perfect, as most things he did tended to be. It was around this time that Negan liked to make his rounds.

Every night he walked through the entire Sanctuary, overlooking the comings and goings of its inhabitants. He wanted to see if things were running smoothly. One of the downsides of ruling with an iron fist was that people tended to spook at the sight of your shadow, so Negan kept to the catwalks. It was the only way everyone could act natural and not piss themselves.

It was something he genuinely enjoyed, watching the hundreds of people he had saved. Every man, woman, and child within the Sanctuary’s walls would still be wandering the wastelands, starving and left for dead if it wasn’t for him.

Rick didn’t get that, and that’s what pissed Negan off. The fucker didn’t realize when he was being helped. If that rockabilly cop would just _stop squirming_ , he would see that Negan was actually the best damn thing that had ever happened to him.

Negan ran a hand along the bannister. At least his people understood.

At least _you_ did.

He stopped and watched as a woman sewed a pair of ratty pants. Balls, today had been awesome. He was going to be a fucking _dad_. Negan had thought the Saviors were his legacy. This kid was going to grab this shit hole of a world by the tits and kick its ass.

Satisfied with the status quo, Negan hiked Lucille over his shoulder and started towards the infirmary. He hated to admit it, which is why he never did, but Negan hated hospitals and doctor’s offices. He had been down that road in another life and it had led to pain and heartbreak. Just a bag of cotton balls could rip him back to a place he did not want to be.

Negan hovered outside of the door, taking a moment to gather himself. He looked through the thin window on the door and his heart stopped.

You were dead.

Your eyes were closed and you weren’t moving. Dead, dead, dead.

Before he could burst in, you rolled onto your side and pulled the blankets over your nose.

Negan grit his teeth and raised his fist, a mere second from punching it against the door out of frustration. Since when had he been such a pussy?

Cracking his neck and taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. He couldn’t walk in and have you wake up to this – him being anxious. He had to get his shit together and sack the fuck up before even the tip of his dick got through the door. He couldn’t be weak, especially in front of you.

When Negan was sure he had calmed the hell down, he opened the door.

“She’s been asleep for the last hour or so.”

Negan whipped around. Dr. Carson was surrounded by a hoard of medication, pen in hand.

“Fuck, we need to put a bell on you.” He pointed at all of the boxes and bottles of pills and syrups. “You kitty bending?”

Dr. Carson put down his pen, clearly confused.  “I’m sorry. I don’t follow.”

Negan smiled. “Are you mixing this shit up,” he waved his hand over the drugs, “and getting high?”

“Just seeing what you have, which is a lot.”

Negan swelled with hubris. No shit it was a lot.

“Now that she’s asleep, I want to talk to you about something important.”

Negan pulled up a chair and sat down. “Kind of cowardly to talk about someone when they’re unconscious. You sure you got a set down there?” He nodded at the doctor’s crotch.

Dr. Carson laughed humorlessly. “I just didn’t want to upset her while she’s in this condition.” He lowered his voice. “You said she’s a drug abuser?”

Negan snorted. “She’s just a dumbass. I took care of it.”

Dr. Carson paused, touching the tips of his fingers together as he tried to find the best way of approach. “This type of thing,” he began slowly, “isn’t something that can just be fixed. Addiction is an ongoing process of dealing with stresses in a healthy way. If she’s not in a healthy environment, there’s a chance of relapse. If she does fall back into a steady habit, your child will be born addicted to drugs.” He sighed. “It will die.”

Negan leaned forward. “I took care of it, asshole,” he repeated coolly.

Being a smart man, Dr. Carson knew when to let sleeping dogs lie. He smiled. “She should sleep through the night.”

As Dr. Carson stood to go, Negan raised his hand. “Will we still be able to screw because we usually go at it like a couple of bunnies and I don’t know how my dick’s gonna take it if things change.” Dr. Carson looked mildly offended, which Negan didn’t understand because it was an honest medical question.

“You should be fine. Have a good night.”

“Thanks, doc,” Negan answered cheekily. As soon as the man in the white coat stepped out of the room, the grin disappeared from his face. “Prick.”

Negan dragged his chair over to your bed and flung himself in it with a huff. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you slept. That doctor had a monster stick up his ass that needed to be removed pronto. He didn’t need another person that didn’t _get it_. The only thing that stood between you and a bloodstream full of poison was him. Negan was your salvation. He was the only thing you needed.

“When did you get here?” You were looking up at him through those long fucking eyelashes that made you look like Bambi.

Negan smirked. “Ten minutes, clearly long enough to arouse you into semi consciousness.”

You reached up and toyed with the hair on the nape of his neck, which he really liked. “What have you been up to?”

Goading Rick Grimes about knocking up his childhood love.

Negan sighed tiredly. “Just end of the day shit.”

“I’m thinking of talking to that girl tomorrow.”

Negan’s hackles immediately raised. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving his sick, pregnant wife with one of Rick’s fearless cronies.

“You don’t even look healthy enough to take a piss by yourself. You’re not going down there.” He rested his boots on the end of your bed and crossed his arms in finality. He watched as you stubbornly stared him down.

“Do you really think she’s going to try anything in here while she’s outnumbered and unarmed?”

You were incredibly attractive when you were being an obstinate bitch.   

“I’m not gonna babysit you.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” you clapped back. “I just think that she would be more receptive to-to…” Your eyelids fluttered and you licked your lips as you tried to figure out how to delicately tell Negan that he was an asshole.

Retracting his feet, Negan leaned forward. A grin settled on his face as he watched you struggle. “If you think you can roll out the welcome wagon better than me, just spit it out. It can’t get any worse than last time.”

This clearly peaked your interest, because you sat up. “What do you mean?”

Just thinking about the incident made Negan’s blood run hot. “One of the guys tried to go all Rapey McGee on her. I put him down before he touched her, but she was spooked.” He ran a hand down his face. It had been disgusting, but what had truly horrified Negan was the fact that you had been sitting just next door, weak and exposed.

Anything Negan was going to say was wiped from his mind when he saw you.

The color had drained from your cheeks and your eyes clouded with pain. It was a look he knew well; you were somewhere else, a place that you kept tucked away so that you could live with yourself.

He had to save you from that black hole. That’s what he did.

Negan gently took you by the chin and made you look at him. “Don’t pretend I don’t know something’s wrong, dickhead.”

You smiled humorlessly and rolled your eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Try again, but go easy on the obscene amount of bullshit.”

You teased your lower lip between your teeth. “Please don’t lose your temper. This happened years ago.”

Oh, this was going to be fucking interesting. Eyebrows raised, Negan leaned back in his chair and waited.

“The reason Rick and I-” you faltered, knotting the blanket between your fingers. “We had a falling out because his best friend tried something with me – stuck a hand up my skirt. But I was able to get him off. When I told Rick about it, he took his side and said that he wasn’t that kind of guy.” Although your eyes shined and your breath stuttered, you refused to let any more tears fall because of one dickhead.

Negan’s hand balled into a fist, making his knuckles crack. That self-righteous piece of shit who doled out moral judgments like a lunch lady gave out sloppy Joes let you get assaulted, then brushed you aside. Negan called you sweet girl for a reason, because you were tooth achingly good, and the very last person who deserved to be so violated.

“You know that shit doesn’t fly around here,” Negan finally said.

With a shuttered sigh, you nodded.

God, where would you be without him?.

~*~

The next morning you woke up hungry, and you immediately knew that you had healed. With a satisfied groan, you stretched languidly.

“Think you can eat?”

“Fuck!” you swore. Dr. Carson hovered over another patient. He must have been admitted while you were asleep. By the looks of things, he had been stabbed in the shoulder. You sat up. “You need to wear a bell or something.”

Dr. Carson smiled. “Your husband said the same exact thing.”

Brushing the disturbing similarity aside, you looked around the infirmary. “Where is he?”

“He,” Dr. Carson paused as he began to stitch up the stab wound, “had to go break up a fight between some workers.” He gestured towards the patient before his eyes briefly flicked up to you. “He wasn’t too happy about leaving you.”

You batted his words away with your hand. “No, of course.”

“He did tell me to say that you can go ahead with Sasha."

Sasha. That must be the girl Negan was keeping prisoner.

Tying off the stitches, Dr. Carson began to bandage the wound. “I want you to eat, and then take these vitamins with you.” He held up a jar and shook it.

You took the pills. “I think I’ll take the breakfast to go.”

“Stick to small amounts of food and eat frequently. Bagels, Bananas, pears, soup, eggs. Make sure to avoid anything with whole milk.” Dr. Carson gently removed the IV from your arm. “Negan left you a change of clothes. You can change in the bathroom.”

With a grateful smile, you slid out of the bed. The floor was cold even on your socked feet. Picking up your clothes, you slipped into the bathroom and got dressed.

You were a little nervous as you walked to the kitchen. You felt healthy and Dr. Carson had given you the go ahead, but you had been vomiting up your insides for days. The last thing you wanted to do was puke all over yourself in the hallway.

With a deep breath, you stepped into the kitchen. It smelled absolutely divine in the morning and it took everything in you not to salivate like Pavlov’s dog as you stepped into the room.

Closest to you was a young man peeling potatoes. At the sound of your footsteps, he looked up, only to bow his head.

“Oh, please don’t do that,” you asked. You had worked hard to immerse yourself with the workers, but it was hard to break years of tyrannical conditioning.

He looked up tentatively. “Sorry.”

“Can I help? I’m going to have breakfast with someone and I figured it’s best that I make it. It’s the principle of the thing.”

The worker silently nodded.

Humming a happy tune, you stationed yourself behind the counter. No one could be angry after a good breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Balls, took me long enough. I didn't know what I wanted to do with this chapter and it took me a while to figure it out. I really liked writing the last half of the previous one, and you all seemed to really like it; so I just sort of continued it.


	34. Vulnerable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wee bit o' sin in this one.

The intricacies of prison manners weren’t familiar to you. So as you raised your hand to knock on Sasha’s cell door, you paused. Did you knock on cell doors? You had a key and it technically wasn’t her room. You could just walk in if you wanted to. However, you weren’t that kind of person and she would surely be less likely to cooperate if you treated her like a prisoner. Securing your tray of goodwill, you rapped your knuckles against the door.

“Sasha?” you called tentatively. “You…there?” You winced. Where the fuck else would she be?

“Yeah?” She sounded just as baffled as you.

Satisfied, you slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. Sasha gazed up at you through narrow eyelids and your chest tightened; you knew exactly how she felt. To the side lay a pillow and a rumpled blanket. You knew that Eugene had been sent up earlier, a smart move on Negan’s part. Hopefully the combined strength of her friend and your kindness could convince her to stay.

“I brought you breakfast. I figured you’d be hungry.” You sat the tray down on the floor before gesturing to the empty space. “Can I sit?” When you only got a hard stare, you took your seat. Folding your legs underneath you, you began; “First, I want to apologize for literally everything Negan said to you. I’m sure it was insensitive and crass and I’m just - I’m sorry.”

“Who are you?” Sasha demanded.

God, not this fucking question.

“Oh,” Sasha’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Eugene told me about you." She winced. “You’re _married_ to him, aren’t you?”

“Negan really wants you on the team,” you pressed forward, brushing aside her criticism.

“Sasha cocked her head. “Aren’t you the one who runs the drug ring? You know, we have a ten year old kid working those fields-”

You stretched your legs. “I don’t pick who works. That’s Gregory’s decision.” At this, Sasha quieted. Taking advantage of her momentary calmness, you pushed the tray towards her. “Please eat.”

With a final mistrustful glance, Sasha slowly grabbed a fork and began to eat.

“I know a place that puts you in a jail cell doesn’t seem too appealing, but-”

“A place run by someone who murdered a person I loved doesn’t seem too appealing,” Sasha countered with enough passive aggressiveness to kill a man. “How do you sleep at night?”

“Sasha, I came here alone in a storm. You can thrive here if you just give us a chance.” The girl didn’t reply.

This was going nowhere. You stood up. “Okay. Enjoy your food.” Shutting the door, you slipped the key into your pocket. With a feral snarl, you kicked the wall. Could you go a single day without having the same conversation regurgitated over and over again? You stormed back to the apartment with a furious energy.

Although you were pissed, your bedroom was a welcomed sight.

You walked into your room, relieved. You felt the anger slowly flow out of you as you kicked off your shoes. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to revel in the feel of carpet on your feet.

“There’s no place like home!” Negan declared from his perch on one of the chairs, one arm stretched across its back.

You closed your eyes and wriggled your toes. “You have no idea.”

“Not to stroke that big ego of yours, but shit’s been kinda boring ‘round here without you.” Negan gave you a lopsided grin. “I might almost go as far as to say that I missed you.” He beckoned you to him with a curl of his finger.

You quietly padded across the room and ran your fingers through his dark hair.

Negan touched his chin to your abdomen. A look came over his face that was only reserved for you.

“How ya’ll doing?” he asked. It took you too long to answer, and soon Negan was smirking like the devil. “Holy shit, she stone walled you!” He grabbed your hips and leaned back. “You’ve been running around, calling me an asshole, thinking those doe eyes can work on just anyone – but you only learned that, golly gee, my job is hard!”

You remained defiant. “You beat her friends to death in front of her. It was almost impossible.”

Negan snorted. “Jesus, kid. If you’re as annoying as your momma, I’m going to fucking castrate myself.”

You were getting ready to bite back when you caught Negan’s eyes, and the words died in your throat. You’d seen those hazel eyes burn with fury, spark with sadism, glisten with laughter, and even cloud with lust, but never had you seen them glassy.

With a shuttered breath, Negan wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his head against your abdomen.

Your immediate gut reaction was to coddle him, to coo and fawn over his sudden outburst of vulnerability. However, you knew that Negan would only react with aggression. He would deflect with vulgarity and withdraw, and that was the last thing you wanted.

“Shit, this is going to be balls to the walls cool,” he mumbled into the fabric of your shirt.

You ghosted your fingers down his jawline, your heart swelling with love. “I’m terrified.”

Negan ran a comforting hand up your back. “You think I’m going to let something happen to you?”  He pulled back and swiped his thumb under his eyes. Emotional or not, his pride allowed him to keep his cheeks dry.

You leaned down and kissed him, hard. You cradled his head as your lips crashed together, allowing your fingers to massage the nape of his neck.

Negan groaned into your mouth, and it didn’t take long for his lips to upturn into a mischievous smirk. “You know what I missed?” His voice rumbled in his chest as his hands began to roam across your thighs.

“What?” Your heart had already begun to race under the head Saviors’ touch.

Negan grinned. “Pussy.”

And he was back.

You didn’t even realize it, but you licked your lips at his words. You shifted from foot to foot, trying to ignore the sudden throbbing between your legs. You hadn’t slept with Negan in a good while because of your imprisonment and your body was currently riddled with hormones. It was a recipe that made you one randy son of a bitch.

“Yeah,” Negan said softly, his hand sliding between your legs, “that’s what I thought.”

A soft gasp fell from your lips at the sudden contact. Immediately your hands dove into his hair as you tried not to lean into his touch.

Negan pulled you back down for another sloppy kiss as his long fingers rhythmically stroked you, making you twitch. As hard as you tried, you couldn’t help but roll into his hand, desperate for more than soft touches and cruel teasing.

“It gets me harder than a fucking rock knowing that I’m the only one who can touch you like this,” he murmured against your good ear before taking your earlobe between his teeth.

You whined in frustration. You just wanted him to climb on top of you and screw you raw, but Negan clearly had other plans. As you tried to climb onto his lap, he held up a hand.

“Don’t you fucking move,” he growled before unbuttoning your jeans.

“Fuck,” you swore, realizing what the man was planning to do.

Negan smiled. “Oh, I’m gonna.” In one fell swoop, he smoothly took your jeans off, which you promptly stepped out of. “Oh, well look at this.” He shot you a self-satisfying grin before pressing a kiss to your damp underwear.

You curled your lip, doing your best to ignore the goose bumps that blanketed your skin. “You are a dirty old man,” you chuckled.

His eyes flicking up to you, Negan sighed, his warm breath fanning on your thighs. “I’m only three years older than you.” Hooking his finger around your underwear, he languidly slid the soft fabric down your legs. You kicked the clothing across the room. “Fuck, baby,” Negan groaned before grabbing your ass with one hand and hiking your leg over his shoulder with the other. Without asking for permission, he began to pepper your inner thighs with feather light kisses.

The softness of his lips and the scratch of his facial hair against your sensitive skin was enough to make you elicit a small, but desperate whimper.

Negan glanced up at you with a crooked smile. “You fucking excited?” he asked against your skin.

“Are you?” you challenged.

Glaring at you like a predator, Negan uttered a single word, “Shit.” Wrenching you towards him, he buried himself between your legs.

With a guttural whimper, your head lulled back. You stared at the ceiling through hooded eyelids as you blindly reached for him. Finally, you were able to weave your fingers into Negan’s dark locks and gave a vicious tug.

The sounds Negan made while he drank you like a man dying of thirst were utterly obscene. As he flattened his tongue against you, he let out a low, satisfied groan. The firm lick made you wiggle and you had to bite your lip to avoid embarrassing yourself.

His tongue curled and twisted, tasting every inch of you as his hands explored expanse of your bare skin. You were forced to bite down on your knuckle to stifle the sounds of utter euphoria.

With a hum of satisfaction, Negan languidly dragged his lips upward. Before you could ready yourself, he pressed his mouth against you and began to suck at the sensitive flesh.

It was becoming increasingly hard for you to stand and you had to grab his shoulder for support as you tried not to pull him towards you.

One of the reasons Negan was such a successful leader was his uncanny ability to read people, to understand their motives. With the devil in his eyes, he gripped your hips and pulled you against his mouth.

The only good thing that came out of Negan’s harem days were his skills in bed. Having to adapt to the needs of multiple women had given him the versatility to make you come undone every single time. He read your body like a book, seeing every twitch and hearing every sigh.

With a final swipe of the tongue, he pulled away. “I could stay here all day and watch you look _really_ cute trying not to scream,” he bit your thigh, “but we got shit to do.”

You begrudgingly retracted your leg from his shoulder. Negan had gotten you hot and bothered and now he was leaving?

“What are we doing?” Miserable, you got dressed.

Negan wiped his mouth. “We’re taking Sasha to Alexandria. No Dick Rick has been dancing a little too close to the line and a point needs to be made.” He stood up and placed a kiss to your burned ear, but you immediately leaned away.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave the compound?” The mood had drastically changed as you looked at Negan with distrust. He had been very adamant about the particular stipulation, and the sudden veer off course was nothing short of suspicious. “You son of a bitch.” Everything had suddenly come to light. “You just want me there to taunt Rick.”

Negan stood up and straightened his belt. “Last time I checked, I’m the fucking boss. Get your shit together and meet me out front.”

You didn’t know whether it was his dismissive tone or harsh words, but a fury burned inside you that you had never felt before.

"Go to hell," you said softly.

Your eyes locked and you were disturbed to see that Negan's eyes were completely emotionless. Without ripping his eyes from you, Negan reached for Lucille and threw her over his shoulder before stepping in front of you.

As you stood underneath Negan’s hard stare, you realized you genuinely didn’t know what he was going to do. Lucille looked real mean up close and you felt your stomach turn into a knot. There was only a mere inch between your bodies, electricity sparking between the empty space. You could count Negan’s eyelashes and see the gold flecks in his fierce eyes.

Slowly, he leaned forward and touched his lips to your forehead. “Get your ass in the front yard. Ten minutes,” he whispered against your skin before turning on his heel and disappearing out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really more of a mediocre filler than anything else. All this teary eyed Negan has just gotten me fucking soft. I'll make it up to you next time!


	35. Opening Doors and Pulling Some Strings

The snarling of the damned greeted you as you stepped out into the yard. Outside was a bustle of activity as everyone loaded weapons into the trucks and went over plans. There was always a certain air of excitement before Alexandria runs. Only the most skilled and trusted Saviors were chosen to accompany Negan to the colony; it was an honor to stand against the only group that dared to bare their teeth at the man with the bloody bat.

“Sweet girl!” Negan was standing on the flatbed of one of the trucks with Arat. With Lucille loyally at his side, he watched you with a lazy smile. He waved an arm in the air. “Get on over here!”

Biting your tongue, you descended the stairs and climbed onto the flatbed. Arat met your eyes and gave you a respectful nod, which you immediately returned. The lieutenant was one of Negan’s most fierce Saviors and loyal to a fault. She had accepted your status without question and you appreciated her greatly for that.

Negan placed a gloved hand on your upper back. “You gonna give me back sass?” he asked with a smile. He noticed that you were looking at your scarf, which he had tucked tightly around his neck. Negan gave it a tug. “It’s lucky. I wear it when we have important shit to do.”

You placed a hand against his cheek. “Are you going to be a dick?”

Negan’s eyes rolled to the sky and he leaned back. “ _Huge_.” He took you by the jaw and melded his lips against yours. The leather was cool against your face and you leaned into his touch. Your previous contempt towards him left as you sighed into his mouth.

“Sir, we have to get going soon if we want to get this done during daylight,” Arat said.

“Don’t be a cockblock, Arat,” Negan drawled before swiping at your lower lip with his tongue. His hand slid from your jaw to the nape of your neck and he pulled just a hair’s breath away. “You’re not stepping out of my sight out there.”

Your noses brushed as you nodded your head.

With a final lingering kiss, Negan looked over your shoulder. “It’s Billy Ray! Get your asses up here!”

Eugene and Sasha had emerged from the Sanctuary and were on their way towards you. It was amazing to see the difference between the two people; Eugene shuffled to you like a dead man walking while Sasha marched with an assurance that was nothing short of admirable. They wordlessly climbed onto the flatbed.

Wrapping an arm loosely around your waist, Negan pointed Lucille at the coffin that lay to your side. “Sasha, you’re going to have the privilege of making a really kickass entrance.”

Shockingly, Sasha didn’t protest. Arms crossed in confidence, she nodded. “Might as well make myself comfortable.”

Negan looked at you, baffled. “You don’t have to actually ride in it.”

Sasha shrugged. “I’m tired. I’ll just need a bottle of water and I’ll be fine.”

“She doesn’t want to be near us,” you explained quietly.

Negan’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh,” he said, dragging out the ‘o.’ He looked back at Sasha and smiled. “Well, good fucking night!” As Sasha turned to the coffin, Negan followed after her. “I really appreciate all of this, by the way. I’m aware that it must really suck ass for you.”

Sasha didn’t answer. Her eyes downcast, she turned and climbed into the coffin.

You watched as Negan shut the lid. “This is dark,” you said.

“This is something Rick won’t forget,” Negan corrected, resting his hand on your midsection as he sidled up next to you. “Eugene?” he asked, looking at the mullet headed man. “Today is going to suck ass for you too, but if you do it right, every day after is going to be pretty damn rad.” He clapped a hand on the coward’s shoulder. “ _You_ get to be Mr. Negotiator today.” Negan leaned in. “And when I say ‘negotiate,’ I mean, ‘tell Rick and his people to open their asses and bend over.’”

With a trembling pout, Eugene nodded.

“We roll out in five!” Negan shouted. “Meet me in the truck,” he said against your temple. Brushing his fingers against your midsection a final time, he hopped off the flatbed.

“I must say, I am relieved that you are accompanying us on this venture,” Eugene said flatly.

You turned. “Oh, thank you.” You were surprised by his kind words, sure that he was going to comment on your relationship with Negan. “Why?”

Eugene looked at you, his expression as dull as his voice. “I find it comforting to know that there is at least one other person who isn’t a bloodthirsty hooligan in this place.”

“This is a demonstration, Eugene,” you explained as you looked over the convoy. “If Negan wanted to, he could wipe Alexandria out in a breath, but he doesn’t.” You left Eugene with your macabre words.

“You ready to go?” Negan asked as you slid into the cabin.

Nodding your head, you moved to sit on his lap, only to be plonked onto the ground.

“Yeah, you’re wearing your seatbelt like a good girl now. Get in the back.”

Knowing that he was right and feeling a little ashamed at your irresponsibility, you switched seats. After buckling yourself in, you looked up. “Happy?”

With a serene smile, Negan slouched down in his seat and closed his eyes. “Overprotective daddy is sated.” He reached back and draped his hand over the headrest in a silent invitation.

Smiling, you stretched forward and threaded your fingers with his.

~*~

It was truly amazing how dismal a simple wall made you feel; but the barricades of the Alexandria Safe Zone always made your heart drop into your stomach. Nothing good had ever come out of your visits to Alexandria, and you were already preparing yourself for the worst.

Eugene stood on the flatbed, megaphone in hand and staring at his old friends. It was truly a tragedy to hear the words of betrayal cut through the air, making the faces of the Alexandrians twist in pain.

“Did you really have to do this?” you asked Negan, your hand still in his.

Negan shifted in his seat to get a better view. “Eugene needs to prove to me where his loyalties lie and Rick needs to understand that he’s no longer his friend. He also need to know that breaking into the Sanctuary to ‘save’ Eugene would be fruitless. Plus, it’s a real blow to moral and I can use him as a hostage if they’re planning anything.”

You shook your head, impressed. Anyone who thought Negan was only a brute was an ignorant fool. He was the puppet master and with the flick of his wrist, you _all_ danced.

You sat up. “Who’s she?” Next to Rick stood a woman you hadn’t seen before. She had sandy blonde hair and wore a black coat. Her face was marred with a scowl.

“I made some new friends while you were in lockup.”

“You sneaky fuck,” you whispered. Rick didn’t know that he was about to be betrayed.

He spoke. “Where’s Negan?”

The man himself leaned forward, waiting to hear what Eugene would say. His grip on your hand remained firm. “Come on, asshole,” he murmured.

After a pregnant pause, Eugene answered. “I’m Negan.”

Negan punched the roof in triumph before looking back at you. “Guy’s officially walked into the light.”

You weren’t so sure. “How do you know that?”

Negan looked back at Eugene. “Because cowards can only whip em’ out so many times in their lives. And he,” he pointed his finger, “has officially filled his quota. Plus, there is no way in hell they would take him back after this. I wouldn’t.”

Rubbing your thumb along the back of Negan’s hand, you watched as Rick’s Frank Sinatra eyes began to shine. As much as you didn’t want it to, his heartbreak gave you a lump in your throat. Your knee jerk reaction was to go to him – but times had changed. You weren’t in your 20s and you weren’t in love.

At least you weren’t.

Before you could look away, his eyes met yours and you froze.

“ _Run_ ,” he mouthed.

Your breath hitched. “Negan, they’ve set a trap-”

Negan wasn’t concerned. “It’s under control.”

Before you could implore him further, the Alexandrians threw themselves to the ground.

“They planted a bomb in back of one of the trucks,” Negan explained. “I had Eugene deactivate it toot sweet.” He looked back at you. “How does it feel to have lover boy try to blow your face off?”

You watched as Rick crouched at gunpoint, stunned and defeated. He had truly thought that he had backed Negan into a corner, but the Savior had bested him once again.

“Time to shut this shit down,” Negan growled before ripping the door open and stepping out.

You followed him onto the pavement, your fingers curled in apprehension. With a begrudging hand you took your gun out and aimed it at an unlucky foe’s head.

Negan smiled as he rested Lucille over his shoulder. Clapping an approving hand on Eugene’s shoulder, he led him to the front of the convoy, you hot on his heels. Stopping at the gate, Negan looked up at Rick and narrowed his eyes.

“Once upon a time there was guy named No Dick Rick who was just so upset about the toothpick between his legs that he got himself and everyone he cared about killed.”  He flashed Rick a toothy grin that would have been charming in any other situation. “Put down the guns.”

Rick stood tall. “No one drops anything.” He turned to the woman holding him at gunpoint. “We had a deal!” he spat through gritted teeth.

Negan leaned back. “You just keep fucking _pushing_ me, Rick. You just tried to blow us up, right? I mean, I understand wanting to blow my ass sky high,” he touched his fingers to his chest, “and my men. But Eugene? But,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “you were going to blow up _[Y/n]?”_ Negan took a step forward. “You were gonna blow up my unborn _kid?_ ” He pointed Lucille at Rick. “That is some sick shit, Rick! Way sicker than anything I’ve done!”

You could have heard a pin drop after Negan’s words. The weight of everyone’s eyes were electric on your skin as you stood under their scrutiny. As you looked over everyone’s stunned faces, you realized just how much you liked to keep things private.

“Well, let me be the first to say, congratu-fucking-lations!” Simon grinned, opening his arms.

“Thanks, Simon,” Negan said with a dastardly smile. He chuckled at the sound of a several congratulatory whoops and whistles. Looking back to Rick, he smirked triumphantly. “So on your murder docket is your sweetheart, one of your own, and a baby that hasn’t even had the privilege to see this shit show. You all are _animals!_ ” He turned. “Dwight, Simon? Chop-chop.”

The men wordlessly hopped onto the flatbed and began to unload the coffin.

The Saviors’ actions were mere background noise as you and Rick stared at each other. His crystal blue eyes always had the uncanny ability to make you feel exposed. He had stripped you down to your very soul – but what was he seeing?

He looked defeated, like he had in the woods, but not hopeless. There was a shine of reason behind his gaze, asking you to explain yourself – _allowing_ you to explain yourself.

In that moment, you realized that Rick Grimes would never give up on you.

And you were glad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept two canon sentences in this one. Everything else is original. 
> 
> On another note, this will end somewhere during the All Out War arc.


	36. Daddy Issues

Over the centuries, scientists have debated over the possibility of time travel. It’s fiendishly complex and at its most simple, absolutely mind-bending. Yet as you stood in front of Alexandria with Negan, your present, you swore that you were staring into your past. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you were frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

Rick watched in silent horror as the coffin was stood on the flatbed. His eyes darted around, desperately trying to figure out what Negan was up to. Rick was frantically chasing a ghost, reaching out for a plan that wasn’t there. Every instinct told you to help him. You had been paid to have each other’s backs years ago, and to literally be on the other side of the fence, to be working against him, was absolutely excruciating.

But the father of your child, the man who had taken you in, validated you, and wore that red scarf, stood behind you on the flatbed, ready to make a scene. So that’s where you would stand, as much as you hated it - as much as Negan scared you, because you loved him.

Or were you just too afraid to leave?

Negan smirked. “So you don’t like Eugene. You don’t love [Y/n], but you _gotta_ like Sasha.” He touched a sentimental hand to his chest and pouted. “I certainly do.” With a cheeky grin, he tapped Lucille against the coffin. “Brought her here for you, gift wrapped and still breathing.”

The tension was palpable as the men and women behind the gate watched Negan showboat. They were at a loss. The barrels of their guns stared at you menacingly, but they didn’t dare shoot, knowing that they would start a fire storm.

Negan continued. “I brought her so I didn’t have to kill all of you, which can actually get pretty problematic because you got a _shit ton_ of firepower in there, which you can use to blast both my,” he pointed to you, “and my family’s ass because you’re an asshole, Rick. That’s what assholes do. So I’m gonna make this real easy; get all of your guns and pick out a lucky contestant that Lucille can get real friendly with because boy, is she lonely!”

Negan was right; Rick was an asshole. Your friend’s first instinct to Negan’s demands was to look at you. He was asking for your help, for you to step in, to do _something_. You absolutely hated him for it.

“I can’t,” you mouthed, your heart breaking.

Negan couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “I’m definitely not leaving without Daryl. Don’t think I can’t see you.” He looked at you. “And give me all of Judith’s shit.”

“ _Negan!_ ” You were absolutely repulsed, but he ignored you.

“Leave my daughter out of it,” Rick bit back.

“Oh, you brought her into it when you tried to fucking kill my kid. Now give me her shit, or Sasha and the rest of you die. Probably.”

It was in that moment you realized that the standoff went beyond diplomatic unrest. Rick hadn’t planned on Negan finding the bomb, or factored in Negan’s newfound paternal instincts.

Nature endowed men with the physical and mental ability to defend their own. The instinct to _protect from harm_ lay at the core of masculinity, and the force was astronomical.

Negan wasn’t going to let any of them live.

Rick jerked forward, only to have the barrel of a pistol stabbed against his temple. “Show me that she’s okay,” he demanded.

Negan chuckled. “In a hot minute. We’ll have to go over the cliffnotes because you can’t hear jack shit in there.” He wrapped on the coffin with Lucille. “Sasha, you gotta hear this shit.”

That’s when things when things fell apart.

Negan swung the coffin door open and the lazy smirk was replaced with a mask of surprise as a walker burst out of its confines, hissing and gnashing its teeth as it grappled with the stunned man.

“Mother _fucker_!” Negan swore before stumbling off the flatbed. He landed hard on the ground, tangled with the groaning corpse.

You didn’t know who shot first, but the spell of stillness shattered when Negan fell. Bullets shot through the air faster than rain as the two sides decided to unleash everything they had.

None of it mattered to you. Your body moved faster than your mind as you lunged towards Negan, not bothering to take in your surroundings. You weren’t concerned about the gunfire, or whether the Saviors were going to be defeated. The only thing that mattered was him.

You were relieved at the slew of curses that flew from Negan’s mouth as he wrestled with the corpse that was once Sasha. He was alive, but not for much longer if you didn’t do something fast.

Skidding to your knees, you wrenched the thing away by its shoulders and straddled its waist. With a snarl, you ripped Charlie Hustle’s knife from its sheath and stabbed it into the walker’s skull. Panting, you rolled off of the corpse.

“You okay?” You helped Negan to his feet and slung his arm over your shoulder.

He gave you a lopsided grin as you stumbled behind one of the trucks for cover. He tugged at your scarf. “It’s fucking lucky, remember?” He pulled his arm away and threw a finger in your face. “You and that little dipshit are gonna stay here til’ this dies down.”

Your scowl lost its intensity as you ducked away from a barrage of bullets. “No,” you said when the air cleared. “I’m not leaving you when things are like this.”

Grinding his teeth, Negan rolled his eyes. “Your nobility can be a real pain in my ass, you know that?” He cautiously peaked around the truck. “You’re jamming your fist right up my asshole.” Sliding down against the vehicle, he looked at you, his chest still heaving from the scuffle. “Well, it looks like I’m playing babysitter’s club.”

You sputtered. “I’m not five. You need to go out there and lead the charge.”

Before Negan could answer, a man came stumbling around the corner. He had been shot in the thigh, but that did not take the murder out of his eyes. You reached for your gun, but Negan was faster. Lunging forward, Negan drove his knife into the soft flesh of the man’s neck and slit his throat. A waterfall of crimson gushed from the cut as the man helplessly grabbed at the wound, gurgling while he choked on his own blood.

In one smooth motion, Negan stabbed him in the brain.

“Simon can handle it. We have a plan B,” he explained like he had just swatted a fly.

As if the universe had been listening, the shouts and gunfire suddenly came to a standstill. You were about to stand up when Negan shoved you back down. Holding up a finger in the universal “wait” sign, he slowly stood up.

“Oh,” he whispered greedily, a hungry smile spreading across his face. “I like the look of that.” He took your hand and pulled you to your feet. “Let’s go wrap things up.”

It was absolutely bizarre, walking hand-in-hand with Negan to meet with the rest of the Saviors. If they were jarred by the domesticity, they didn’t show it. Their faces were twisted in their usual hard glares. Simon stood at the head of the group, his eyes narrow in the afternoon sun.

Negan was right; Simon had stepped up.

You didn’t notice Carl right away, but when you did, your stomach rolled. The young man was on his knees, staring blankly ahead. You knew that Negan admired him immensely. Surely he didn’t plan on hurting him?

You turned at the sound of a grunt.

Rick was being marched down the road by the mystery woman. He was drenched in sweat, his curls sticking to his glistening forehead. As he approached, you noticed that he was limping. He must have been injured during the fight.

As Rick’s blue eyes landed on you, you immediately tried to jerk your hand away from Negan’s, but his grip on you only tightened.

Negan rested Lucille on his shoulder. “Well, hey there,” he greeted impertinently.

As Rick was shoved to the ground, he turned to you.

Guilt and its companion, shame – can paralyze us, or spring one into action. As Rick refused to break his gaze, to give you one second of respite, you froze. Your guilty heart pounded against your tight chest, compressing your lungs and making it hard to breathe.

“You can _end this_ ,” Rick rasped, leaning towards you. Whatever else he had to say was silenced by the butt of the mystery woman’s gun.

Rick didn’t cry out as he was pistol whipped. He simply spat out a mouthful of blood and continued to stare you down.

Negan massaged his brow and chuckled. “Rick, Rick, Rick,” he drawled. “Do you ever know when to shut the hell up?” Finally, he let go of your hand. He raised Lucille, hovering her just in front of Rick’s nose. “Don’t talk to her.”

If Rick heard him, he gave no indication - he was too focused on you.

Negan knelt down and gripped Rick by the jaw. Violently, he wrenched his face to his. “Look at me, asshole!”

Finally, Rick’s eyes left yours and focused on the man before him.

Negan smiled. “There we go.” With a condescending pat on the cheek, he began to prowl around the kneeling men. “I come here to do business, bring your friend back.” Negan paused. “Okay, she was dead as shit, but that wasn’t on purpose. The point is, I came here to do a simple transaction, and you had to go and turn this into one giant cluster fuck!” He pointed to his chest. “If you ask, most people would say I’m a pretty swell guy. But I’m getting real sick of your shit, Rick!”

Negan stretched his arm out and pointed to you. “You almost killed her, and you almost killed my kid, which really pisses me off because I haven’t even had the chance to explain to it why Wonderful Tonight is the _worst_ fucking song on the Slowhand album.” Running a hand over his mouth, Negan leaned back and sighed.

His sudden change of demeanor put you on edge. Whenever Negan put on the mask of a remorseful man, it meant that he was about to cave someone’s skull in.

“You know, I’ll be a lucky man if my little guy or girl is like your boy,” Negan began, and you realized that the pain in his eyes was real, “but you don’t go after my family. I mean, my _kid_? It’s an eye for an eye, prick.” Stopping in front of Carl, he winced. “Shit, was that too soon?”

Negan’s words were halted with the sound of a distant scream and a dismal splat. While you were confused, Rick knew what had happened. His eyes widened in shock and he wavered. The few tears that escaped mingled with the sweat on his face, but Rick didn’t make a sound.

Negan knelt back down. “Balls, now that is what I call dramatic irony,” he taunted quietly. “That person meant a lot to you, huh?” He held Lucille up. “You tried to take my eye, now I’m _going_ to take yours by bashing Carl’s head in. It’ll be quick, because as much as I can’t stand you, I really like him.” Negan jabbed his fingers against Rick’s temple. “I need this shit to stick.”

Through the tears, Rick’s eyes burned with a ferocity that you hadn’t seen in years. “You better sleep with one eye open,” he grit through a sneer, “because I _will_ kill you. I don’t know where and I don’t know when,” he licked his lips, “but _I-will-kill-you_. Every single one of you.”

His threat shook with a feral rage that sent a chill down your spine. Although Rick was outnumbered and unarmed, you wanted to rip Negan away from him and run.

Negan wasn’t nearly as impressed. With a soft chuckle, he nodded his head and looked over at you. Letting out a long whistle, he asked; “You hear that?” Negan stood up and ripped Carl’s hat off. “Sorry, kid.”

Before he could bring Lucille down onto Carl’s head, a thunderous roar cut through the air and a _Bengal tiger_ leapt from the sky, pouncing on one of your men. The woman didn’t stand a chance, and was immediately crushed under the big cat’s massive weight.

“Fuck!” Negan swore before grabbing your arm and wrenching you out of the way.

“Am I high?” you asked, looking at your arms as you stumbled after Negan, dodging the barrage of bullets raining down on you. He was half dragging you away from the sudden onslaught of people because your feet weren’t working properly.

With a small ‘oof,’ you let Negan toss you into the truck before he hurled himself in after you. The Savior behind the wheel slammed his foot on the pedal and you peeled out of Alexandria like a bat out of hell.

Panting, Negan looked at you through the rearview mirror. “Remember when I told you months ago about a guy that was weirder than Gregory?” When you nodded, Negan snorted. “Well, there you fucking go. His name's Ezekiel and he's a delusional nut bag.”

“You were really going to kill him, weren’t you?” you asked quietly. You would never say it out loud, but you were grateful for the weirdo and his tiger. You couldn’t live in a world where your husband murdered the son of your first love’s.

You blinked. Shit. Rick Grimes was the first man you had ever truly loved. No, the only person other than Negan. After Rick your life had been one big spiral of drugs and alcohol, then the world ended. You never had the time or capacity for another person. You loved heroin too much.

Negan brought his fist down on the dashboard in frustration. Rick had bested him. Again. “He tried to kill you.” He looked out the window. “And the damn kid.”

“But did he know I would be there?”

“Where the fuck else would you be?” Negan snapped, the volume of his voice making you wince.

You were going to bite back and defend yourself against Negan’s aggressive outburst, but a closer look at him made you sink back into your seat.

Negan sat back, slouching in his seat as he always did, but that was as relaxed as his body went. The hand that wasn’t anxiously running up and down Lucille’s handle was clenched into a fist, touching his lips. You could see his reflection in the side view mirror, and there was a faraway look in his eyes. He was struggling with something you couldn’t see.

Whatever it was, you couldn’t ask, not while you were in front of someone else. Resting your forehead against the window, you decided not to say anything.

~*~

It was weird, you lived in the middle of an industrial park, but you could still hear the crickets from the woods nearby on most evenings. You loved the insect orchestra; it was the sound of life, something you rarely heard anymore. Whenever you could, you cracked open a window and listened to the soothing chirping.

As the bugs chirped, you sat in your bedroom, curled up and falling asleep in one of the comfy chairs while The Exorcist played on TV.

As Raegan spit a mouthful of green puke onto Father Damien’s face, the creek of a door jolted you awake.

Negan hovered in the doorway, resting his temple against the doorframe. It was hard to see his face; the only light came from the TV. The changing pictures casted his features in an endless morphing stream of shadow. He had shed his jacket and kicked off his boots as soon as you got home. Even his belt had been tossed aside in the name of comfort.

 “You scared the hell out of me.” Your voice was raspy from misuse.

“Then you need to grow a pair.”

You could _feel_ the snarky smile. You reached out a hand in a silent invitation and Negan took it, pulling you to your feet.

Bringing you against his chest, he rested his chin on the top of your head. “I,” he began slowly, “am so sorry. You shouldn’t have been out there, and I put you out there, and it was a dumb fucking move. I was whipping my dick out and wanted to give them a show – and for some reason I feel better when your dumb ass is out there.”

You were glad it was dark because you were gaping. Perhaps the shadows had given Negan the ability to be this sentimental and open.

He took you by the chin and turned your face to his. “Did you hear me?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered, finally finding your voice. “Thank you.”

“Will you remember this?”

You nodded. You would remember this moment until your dying breath.

“Good, because it’s not happening again.” His lopsided grin was back.

You shoved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Shit_. Did I pull off the last scene okay?
> 
> This was a really fun one to play with. I really wanted to write dad feels T^T I'm happy I got this up today, April 22nd, on the most holiest of days.
> 
> I think all of it's original except for a few words here and there? And I've altered an ass load.


	37. Some Unholy War

It was an amazing thing, to be sitting in a room with six of your peers, knowing that you could all agree on one solid truth. The world was decaying more and more every day, along with everyone’s word. In the new cut throat culture where you had to kill to survive, life left very few you could trust, let alone agree with. Yet as you sat in the conference room with the rest of the council, you were proud to say that every single one of you believed that Gregory was the walking embodiment of a steaming pile of horseshit.

As Gregory sat at the far end of the table, you and Simon exchanged withering looks. If there was one thing that could bring people together, it was the mutual disdain for a complete moron.

The coward huddled around his lonely glass of water, hoarding it close as if it was his only ally. To be fair, it really was. He was dressed smartly as always, impressing absolutely no one. Well pressed suits didn’t hide cowardice and incompetence.

“Negan,” he began, his voice teetering on the edge of desperation, “I know more than anyone how difficult it can be to manage an entire population – to _lead_ , keep track of all the intricacies of a successful civilization while still remaining the big bad boss.”  He shifted nervously. “I hate seeing people die, I hate killing people, more than anything-”

You sputtered, and immediately everyone’s head whipped to you. Cupping a hand over your mouth, you looked away. “I’m sorry,” you apologized smoothly. “Continue.”

The old man didn’t have the balls to kill anyone and hearing him say such a noble statement was truly hilarious.

Skeptical, the attention was slowly brought back to Gregory.

The glare Gregory had been giving you dissipated as he looked back at Negan.

Negan had remained silent throughout Gregory’s speech, not even bothering to give him a glance. Like a lazy cat he reclined in his chair, one leg draped over the table as he inspected Lucille. Finally, he looked up.

“I like killing people,” he said smoothly, giving Gregory a lazy smile.

Gregory was clearly unsettled and immediately changed his entire view on morality. “It’s about killing the right people.”

“So you’re a means to an end kind of guy?”

You almost felt bad for Gregory. Negan was playing his favorite game; there was only one right answer to his question, and if Gregory didn’t get it right, he was going to be making some new, dead friends in the yard.

You had to give him some credit, Gregory seemed to have caught on. The coward was clearly thinking over his answer.

“Yes.”

Negan’s voice was deceptively soothing. “Everyone in this room knows how I run this place. I have this raging hard on for this guy, Niccolò Machiavelli. You heard of him?” When Gregory only stared, Negan chuckled. “No, of course you haven’t. Guy was a political theorist back in 16th-century Italy. Europe was war torn, everyone getting pounded worse than a cheap hooker in Tijuana. He was inspired to write _The Prince_ , pure political discourse that you can’t afford to zone out on or you’ll be reading the same fucking sentence over and over again.

“So he talks about princedoms, and the different ways you can come to lead them. Criminal virtue,” he tapped his finger against the table, “that is the way to go, although I don’t care very much for the title. You go in and take the state over, but you keep your atrocities to the minimum. You don’t need the bloodshed. People don’t like that, and they resent you for it.” Negan laced his fingers together. “We save people. That is who we are.” He grinned. “That’s why I brought you here.”

Gregory was grasping at straws. “Look, we’re teetering on the edge of a serious conflict here and I don’t want things to-to escalate. We’re both men of reason. I’ll go back to the Hilltop and tell them that if they go through with this uprising, they’re gone. They’re no longer welcome at the Hilltop.”

“You sure you’re still King Big Dick over there?” Negan looked nothing short of amused at Gregory’s attempt at bravado. “You got that criminal virtue?”

Gregory scoffed and puffed out his chest. “I am and always will be in charge of the Hilltop.”

Negan pondered his words. “Then how did a band of Hilltop renegades almost rip my dick off at Alexandria? I don’t know about you,” he looked around the room, “but I think the Widow is wearing the pants in this relationship.”

The Widow was Maggie Greene, the wife of the poor soul who got his head bashed in the woods. In another lifetime, you would have gotten along. From what you heard and briefly saw, she was fierce, strong, and hell bent on revenge. It was well known among the Saviors that she had slowly but surely taken the reigns at the Hilltop, but pandering to Gregory’s ego was the key to keeping him in your pocket.

Negan slid his leg off the table. His face darkened as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You know what I think, Gregory? I think you’re a pussy that’s playing both sides. I think you came to this meeting with every intention of running back to your little Hilltop, where you’re the whipping boy to some girl, and relaying all of our super-secret plans, because that’s what pussies do.”

This was not good. Although Negan’s voice was soft, there was a fury laced in his words that you all recognized. The air in the room had suddenly become thick with tension as you all waited to see what he was going to do. You had all lived with Negan for quite some time, but he still remained unpredictable.

Gregory was agape. “N-no, no,” he stammered, looking down at his lap. “That wasn’t my intention. _Isn’t_ , at all. I had no idea of these events until they were- until they were unfolding.”

Simon clapped a blessed hand on Gregory’s wrist, silencing the man. “I believe you, Gregory.”

Your eyes slid to Negan. They were playing good cop bad cop, one of the oldest and most effective manipulation methods in the book. You were impressed.

In moments like this, when everything lay on the line and smiles were nowhere to be seen, Negan kept your relationship professional. He couldn’t afford to look human while he was intimidating somebody, but he had no problem hooking his foot around your ankle in a discrete form of affection, away from anyone’s wandering eyes. He knew you recognized what he was doing, and he appreciated it.

Simon pointed to Negan. “Now you have to make Negan believe you.”

It was amazing, how easy it was to tune Gregory out. It was quite an honor to be one of Negan’s trusted council member’s, but having to listen to Gregory’s stuttering nonsense was truly a new form of torture.

You blinked when you felt a soft touch on your arm.

Negan leaned forward. “I’m going to need you to leave, sweet girl,” he said, his voice gentle. The words were only for you.

You briefly glanced at Gregory. “Is everything okay?”

Negan took you by the chin. He gently turned your face to his. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”  Throwing his physical affection rules aside for a moment, he leaned forward and gave you a chaste kiss.

He really wanted you to leave.

“Okay.” You stood up.

Negan’s fingers whispered across your waist. He was always touching you now in a sort of loving wonder. You weren’t even sure if he was aware of it, but you didn’t want to break the spell by pointing it out.

Negan’s eyes followed you as you left the room. He didn’t want you in here as he lost his temper. What Gregory had done was unacceptable, and the old man needed a good scare to get with the fucking program, but you didn’t. Your presence would also make things complicated.

They needed to begin planning a new course of action. The latest trip to Alexandria had completely changed the game. Rick and his rag tag team of shitheads were no longer a resource. They were a problem that needed to be eradicated, and Negan knew that you would never agree to such a plan. For some mysterious reason, you were still emotionally attached to Rick and Negan knew that you would never want to kill him.

The thought had crossed your mind many times, and it did again as you slipped out of the room. What was Negan going to do now that Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the third settlement, the Kingdom, attacked? Things had escalated so quickly

It was truly funny how the universe worked. Your dismal thoughts were punctuated by three explosive bangs. The noise reverberated off the concrete walls and rattled your bones. You took off in a sprint, skidding to a stop outside the conference room. Wrenching the door open, you flung yourself inside.

Negan stood, gazing out the window. He looked over his shoulder as you burst into the room. “It’s Rick,” he answered your silent question. “They’re all decked out in Podunk, redneck armor. We don’t have the lead to take them out.” He turned to Simon. “Let’s go play understanding diplomats, and bring the old man. That tiny pecker might actually be good for something.”  You moved to follow, but Negan raised a hand. “Don’t you even fucking think about it.”

“Rick won’t hurt me. I can talk him down.”

“Stop being an asshole and go.”

 You were persistent, and tried to push past Negan, but he held an arm out.

“Please.”

You were at a loss for words. Negan didn’t beg. Ever. There was no way you could deny him.

“Okay.”

You saw the tension leave Negan’s shoulders. “Stay here and shut the hell up. We have the numbers and a fortress. Rick would be a damn moron if he tried anything. He’s just dangling his balls and wanting to see if I’m impressed.”

You pat his chest as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “All right. I’ll wait here.”

Negan wordlessly waved his hand and everyone followed him out the door.

You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes and slid down the wall. Negan was confident that Rick wasn’t going to try anything, but you weren’t so sure. You knew Rick better than anyone, and there had been murder in his eyes when he had promised to kill all of you.

You ripped your hands away. Had he been talking about you?

You had done your best to stay out of Negan and Rick’s feud. No, you remembered what Negan had said the day you had come home from Alexandria.

It was a war.

A barrage of bullets made you leap to your feet. Before you could reach the door, Regina, Simon, Gavin, and Dwight burst into the room, wild eyed and their chests heaving.

“Where’s Negan?” you demanded.

“He’s still out there,” Regina answered.

You clenched your fists. “Then why are you all in here?” you shouted before barreling through them. You went to shove Simon aside, but he took a strong grasp of your bicep.

“It’s a hell storm out there. You’ll get killed. Boss man can take care of himself and you have the kid to think about.”

You smacked his hand away. “I am thinking about it, and it deserves to know its father.” Before Simon could argue back, you were gone.

It really was like hell.

The air was filled with bullets and smoke. Shards of glass rained from the sky, forcing you to shield your face with your forearm. You grit your teeth as their sharp edges cut through your skin. You had to ignore the pain and find Negan.

You made a bold move and kept your gun in its holster. It was your hope that Rick would see that you were unarmed and take mercy on you.

Keeping low to the ground, you began to descend the stairs. Your eyes shot around the yard, desperately looking for a leather jacket. Negan always needed to be the center of attention, so it was terrifying to be unable to find him.

Before you could call out his name, a deafening boom shook the afternoon and you were engulfed by a blinding heat. You heard nothing but the blood rush to your ears as you were brought back to that place all those years ago.

Rick’s RV had gone up in a roaring ball of

 ** _Fire_**.

You watched in horror as flames licked the yard, their orange tendrils dancing menacingly in the breeze. You tried to take a step, but your leg collapsed beneath you. With a choked sob, you crawled across the gravel, looking for a friendly face.

You found a pair of blue eyes.

 _The same blue eyes_.

Rick reached out his hand and pulled you behind their barricade.

Spinning you around so that he was between you and the Sanctuary, he cupped your face. “Are you okay?” he asked.

A single tear ran down your cheek. “Negan?” was all you managed.

Rick stared into your eyes as an idea came into his head, a shameful one that had made his life an absolute hell a few years ago.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Rick said, “He’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've officially come full circle from the first chapter. I can't wait for the next one. This had too much canon for me. I changed almost all of the dialogue, but still...
> 
> ALSO I'm getting the wisps of a new Negan x Reader insert story idea and I'm wondering if you guys would be interested in another one.


	38. Negan

Fuck.

_Fuck._

**_Fuck._ **

Fucking ass, shit, dickbag, Jesus Christ on a goddamn stick during Sunday morning at church.

Negan crouched beneath the stairwell in the yard, watching as empty bullet shells rained from the sky. God, he had been wrong. Rick hadn’t just dangled his balls, he had whipped his dick out and slapped it across his face.

Negan winced at the thought. Gross.

He had to get out of this shit storm and get to you. No Dick was shooting into the Sanctuary and you were just on the other side of the door. Pushing himself to his feet, Negan limped across the yard, moving as fast as his injured leg would go. He had to find something that would keep him alive just long enough for Rick to run out of ammo. Then he could haul ass and get inside.

Diving behind a scrap of burnt RV, Negan made himself as small as possible. He could hear the bullets ricocheting off the RV, sparking as they hit the sheet metal. He needed to survive. He needed to take care of you, the brave little baby bird that tried to fly too early. He was going to be a father, have an annoying kid that he already loved fiercely. Negan couldn’t die – he had too many responsibilities.

He loved you too much.

Negan heard the sigh of the gate collapse. This was his chance; as the oncoming hoard kept everyone distracted, he could find better cover.

His eyes fell on one of their trailers. Taking a deep breath, Negan bolted out into the decimation.

It was truly heartbreaking to see the paradise he had built reduced to a living nightmare. The entire yard had been blown to bits. Hunks of the RV and the factory lay strewn across the ground, making it even harder for him to walk. Corpses dragged themselves across the gravel as numerous fires peppered the area.

Negan was grateful for the smoke. He was sure it was what allowed him to slip into the trailer undetected.

Slamming the door behind him, Negan stood alone. Soon, he was surrounded by a cacophony of hisses and moans so loud that he couldn’t even think. He watched as dozens of rotting hands clawed against the window.

Reaching forward, Negan shut the blinds. He stood in complete darkness.

The last thing he expected was for that freaky ass priest to come barreling in. Negan seriously considered killing him, but he knew that the guy didn’t deserve it and he was too tired.

“Boo.”

Gabriel jumped out of his skin as Negan stepped out of the shadows. They may be surrounded by corpses, but it didn’t mean he had to stop being a dick.

Negan shoved the priest to the ground. Pinning him in place, he began to disarm him, and boy was he glad he did.

Ripping a machine gun out of Gabriel’s hand, Negan smiled. “I definitely think I’m going to say hello to this little friend.” He pulled a machete and a pistol from the waistband of the man’s pants. He emptied out the full cartridge. “Are you shittin’ me?

“I didn’t see the need to shoot,” Gabriel explained.

Negan chuckled. “You could have died like a man.” He watched Gabriel suffer for a moment longer. “I’m just breaking your blessed balls. Relax.” He stuck his hand out. “Let’s get you the fuck up.”

Wearily, Gabriel accepted Negan’s help.

With a cheeky smile, Negan slid down the wall. If he could choose one person _not_ to get stuck with, it would be Gabriel. The guy was creepy with his Namaste vibe and blank stare. If he touched him, Negan swore he was going to freak out.

They both opted for silence as they sat in the piping hot trailer. Negan could feel the sweat glistening on his face, but he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off. After a while, the constant moans became a familiar background noise that Negan almost didn’t notice.

Pulling his leg up, Negan rested his wrist on his knee and closed his eyes. “Your friend Rick is an asshole,” he said.

“You’re an asshole,” Gabriel snapped back.

Negan smiled. He had not expected a man of the cloth to swear. “You bet, but he’s gonna get people killed.” He opened his eyes. “You know, I saw you try to save Dirty Grandpa.” When Gabriel looked confused, Negan explained. “You tried to save Gregory, after that bald fuck said what he said. What the shit is that about?”

Gabriel looked away. “I don’t want my death to be pointless.” His voice was soft. “It’s been a fear of mine since the world became like this.”

Negan snorted. “So you’re gonna die for that wrinkly fuck?”

Gabriel looked up and that creepy, serene smile played on his lips. “No, I think I’m here to take your confession.”

On the brink of death or not, Negan grinned. “I don’t got shit to confess.”

Gabriel folded his legs and laced his fingers together. Damn, he was really serious about this. “What about the slaughter of innocent people?”

Negan’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t killed a single person that didn’t deserve it.” He sat up. “You know what I really fucking hate about you guys? You and your Candide optimism sit in your Edenic paradise behind those walls with that stupid fucking sign, ‘Vengeance for the Plunderers’?  How the fuck does Rick the Prick and his band of crime fighting buddies get supplies?”

Gabriel averted his gaze.

Negan stood up. “ _You_ slaughtered my men while they were sleeping,” his voice had gotten louder, “in case you-had- _forgotten_!” He jabbed Lucille in the priest’s face. He felt a wave of satisfaction when he flinched.

“I didn’t take you as someone who read Voltaire.”

Negan opened his arms and smirked. “Shocking, right? I can read.”

Gabriel’s voice was so calm that it was annoying. “My apologizes. I didn’t meant to offend.”

Negan chuckled. With a shake of his head, he sat back down. “Calm your tits. My wife thought I was a stupid lug at first, too.”

Gabriel’s smile widened. “You’re talking about [Y/n]?”

Negan’s eyes slid over to Gabriel. “How do you know her name? I didn’t see you out there the other day.”

“Everyone knows her. She and Rick were friends from before.” Gabriel shifted as he made himself comfortable. “It’s a badly kept secret that he’s still in love with her, which makes things…difficult, as you can imagine.”

“Yeah, he stood up for her almost rapist. That makes things pretty fucking difficult.”

Gabriel was taken aback. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Both men fell silent, allowing the groans and hisses to wash over them. The corpses had slowly become more frantic, banging on the door and clawing at the window. Their hands casted haunting shadows across the blinds.

“I have something to confess.” Negan’s head lulled back.

Gabriel leaned forward, too afraid to speak in case he dissuaded Negan from confiding him.

Negan closed his eyes. “I’m a coward.”

Gabriel’s eyelids fluttered. “Why do you say that?” There were a lot of things Negan had to confess, but he had not expected that.

A humorless smile appeared on Negan’s face. “I can’t tell her that I love her.”

Gabriel was stunned. “You love her?”

Negan opened his eyes and looked at the priest. “More than you people like banging altar boys. Of course I love her, you asshole.”

“Then why don’t you tell her?”

Negan sighed. “Because if I do, that makes me vulnerable, and that makes me weak. I can’t afford to be weak. I have people to look after and a reputation to uphold. I can’t keep these people safe without my reputation.”

“As a monster?”

Negan glared. “Strong - and I make people strong. If I become soft, the entire schema falls apart. I take the weak and build them up. You can’t be vulnerable.” He stood up, too antsy to sit. Gabriel was stunned when a genuine smile plastered Negan’s face. “We’re gonna have a baby. God fucking help it. Gotta be strong for that little asshole, too.”

Gabriel watched as Negan touched his forehead to the wall. He hadn’t expected him to open up, let alone bare his soul. Negan said he didn’t want to be vulnerable, but here he was – admitting his fears. Maybe it was because they were going to die and he knew Gabriel couldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone.

It was funny what death could do to a person.

“She’s fucking beautiful,” he murmured into the wall. “Ya’ll pretend you’re the good guys, preaching the gospel while shoving your dicks up everyone’s ass, but she is fucking _good_. And life hasn’t been good to her. She was almost raped, got abandoned by her friend.” He looked at Gabriel. “She got addicted to heroin. She almost died on me.”

“Is she the one who ran your drug operation?”

Negan looked proud. “You’re damn fucking right she did. She’s smart as shit. She survived by trading alcohol in the wastelands. We switched over to drugs when I found a stash of heroin on her.” He deflated and his voice quieted. “It’s my fault she OD’d. She’s smart, but she’s fucking stupid.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “Why do you say that?”

Negan chuckled. “Because she loves me. I know I scare her. She has PTSD and I’ve triggered it with my bullshit more times than I’d like to admit, but she still loves me.” He pointed to the door. “Now she’s either stuck in there, trapped and going to starve to death, or already dead-”

Negan faltered and turned his back to the priest. “I’m gonna kill all of you,” he said lowly.

Gabriel's voice was gentle. “Don’t lose faith just yet. Amazing things have happened in this world.” He paused. “You know, I think it takes quite a bit of bravery to tell someone that you love them.”

Negan looked back and Gabriel was shocked to see that his eyes were red rimmed. “Well, I’m fucking done looking at your creepy face. It’s time to pay the piper.”  He held up Lucille. “I got my girl and we got that gun.” He bent down and dragged the corpse Gabriel had been wrestling with to the center of the room. “Time to suit the fuck up. I have a girl to get back to.”

Gabriel smiled.

~*~

Heaps of rotten flesh clung to Negan’s shoulders as he leisurely strolled through the Savior’s home base. The smell was putrid and made his eyes burn. His pristine leather jacket was shot to shit from the coagulated blood and guts - however, the state of his clothing was the least of the man’s problem. His entire compound was currently surrounded by a hoard of moaning, flesh eating, pain-in-the-ass Night of the Living Dead assholes. They were already out of electricity and would surely run out of food and water before the end of the week, but he couldn’t wipe that shit eating grin off his face.

Chaos. Negan was at the end of the hallway and he could already hear the sound of the Savior’s social structure collapsing – and all because he had gone missing for a few hours. They were his flock and he was their Shepard. Negan chuckled.

No.

He was their god.

At the sound of a gunshot, he let out a lazy whistle. He was met with silence. God, he almost gave himself goose bumps.

Rounding the corner, he gazed upon his kneeling subjects. The room had gone deathly quiet as Negan shot the crowd a crooked grin. He threw Lucille over his shoulder.

 “And just where is my sweet girl?” he demanded loudly. The group exchanged nervous glances and shuffled anxiously on the floor. Negan raised a bemused eyebrow at their response. “I think,” he began slowly, “I asked you a question.” Although his tone was pleasant, his words were laced with an unsaid threat.

Simon lifted his head. Adverting his gaze, he confessed. “She left. With Rick.”

Negan licked his lips. “Did that self-righteous, podunk cop take her by force?” Just the thought of the limp dick cop putting his hands on you made his grip on Lucille tighten.

Simon’s usual show boating, smartass air was nowhere to be seen as he admitted the dismal truth. He looked like a dog who had been caught pissing on the carpet. With a wince, he answered, “No. She decided on her own.”

Negan wasn’t sure whose head he bashed in, but he knew the next skull he’d pulverize would be Rick Grimes’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I failed as an author and didn't succeed in conveying that Negan actually does love the reader character to death.
> 
> It was fun to finally tie in the opening scene.


	39. Rick

Your breath wafted above you in the midnight air, curling into spirals of warm steam. Your thin sweater did little to protect you from the cold, but the weather wasn’t what was on your mind as you walked down English Avenue. You kept your eyes peeled and your ears open; you had to be on high alert on this side of Atlanta.

The distant gunshot rolled off your back. It was faraway and didn’t concern you.

The dilapidated houses were depressing and decayed. Most of their windows were boarded up and sat on unkempt lawns. Their rundown appearance didn’t stop you from turning down a gravel driveway.

“Shit,” you swore as your heel came down on glass. Nudging the object with your toe, you saw that it was a needle. Kicking it aside, you climbed onto the home’s porch and rolled your eyes. Someone had spray painted a dick on the front door.

You rapped your knuckles on the chipped wood.

A young man dressed in an oversized hoodie and baggy pants opened the door. His skin was pasty white and covered with sores.

“You a cop?” The few teeth he had left were brown.

You scoffed. “Fuck you, Jason.” You shoved him aside and barged into the home.

The smell of piss and shit was what hit you first. Your eyes scoured the emaciated bodies, their arms and feet littered with track marks. Their eyes stared up at you, sunken and bloodshot as you navigated around the drug den. They sat on the floor on the few pieces of shredded, stained furniture that was left over from the previous occupants of the home.

“Jared?” you called. “It’s [Y/n]. I need my shit.” You stepped into the kitchen and stopped. A short man sat at a table, eating a moldy bologna sandwich.

He looked up at the sound of your footsteps. “You got the money?”

You slipped out the wad of fifties from your pocket. Before you could go through with the transaction, a panicked shout rang throughout the house.

“ _Cops!_ ”

Those that were lucid enough to understand jumped to their feet. It was a mad scramble to get to the back door as the tweakers tried to outrun the brass. As you turned to go, an emaciated hand took you by the arm and threw you to the side. You stumbled and fell to the ground.

You landed hard on your side. A slew of swears flew from your lips as you tried to get back to your feet, but the stampede of drug addicts kept you down.

“I don’t have anything,” you said as soon as you heard the door burst open. You winced as you were wrenched to your feet. “Hey, asshole! That hurts!” You turned, about to give the cop a piece of your mind, but the words died in your throat.

“You’re coming with me,” Rick said before he slapped a pair of handcuffs on you. He began to drag you through the house, his Sheriff’s badge shining in the flickering light.

You stumbled after him, calling him every name in the book as you tried to escape his vice like grip. Rick ignored you and ripped open the door to his squad car before tossing you inside.

Sitting up, you blew a strand of hair out of your eyes. You rested your forehead against the divider. “You can’t keep doing this,” you said softly.

“Don’t like it, stop hanging around drug dens.” His blue eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror. “The _Bluffs_? You know this is the most dangerous area in Atlanta. You can’t do this, [Y/n].”

“How about you just arrest me for once? Then you won’t have to keep feeling guilty about putting me on the streets.”

“This isn’t about that. You’re breaking the law.”

“Bullshit.”

Rick let out a tired sigh. His words were no louder than a whisper. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. I can’t let that happen.” He winced at your bitter laugh.

“ _Now_ you care. You can’t save me, Rick.”

Rick put the keys in the ignition. “Maybe, but I can for tonight.”

~*~

Rick’s world had already been turned upside down when he had found you after all of these years, after the world had ended. As he put another pair of handcuffs on your wrists, he was sent for another loop.

Rick was wrapped in the memories of patrolling the seediest parts of Atlanta, scouring the streets for any sign of you. You had been in the early stages of your drug addiction and didn’t care how you got your fix. You had been wreckless and didn’t hesitate to walk into the ghettos to meet your dealers or spend the night in a drug den.

Of course he would never arrest you. The penalty for holding was seven years, and no matter what you did, Rick couldn’t stand to see you rot away behind bars. Whenever he was able to find you, he tossed you into the drunk tank for the night, where he knew you’d be safe for twelve hours.

You had been a broken woman then, and it had been his fault. He looked up and watched as you pulled your cuffed hands onto your lap and curled into a ball.

The world had reset and he had done it again. He had broken you.

Since Rick had told you that Negan died, you hadn’t uttered a single word. You hadn’t cried more than a single tear, opting to listlessly stare into space.

Rick rested a hand on the car’s door. “This is only temporary, until everyone else trusts you. I’ll convince them, tell them that you’re not loyal to the Saviors anymore now that-” he faltered and looked down at his boots. “We’ll work it out. I know you.”

When you didn’t say anything, Rick closed his eyes. He knew that you couldn’t really love Negan. You had to be suffering from a case of Stockholm Syndrome or _something_. Whatever it was, it had gotten to you deep. It looked like a part of your soul had been ripped out.

It fucking hurt because damn, did he love you.

“I’ll be back,” he assured and shut the door.

They had convened in the woods, just outside of the satellite post to figure out their next course of action. They hadn’t planned on harboring Negan’s wife, and your presence changed everything.

Daryl met Rick half way. “She needs to go.” He pointed his crossbow at the car.

Rick stood tall. “She thinks Negan’s dead. She has no reason to stay with the Saviors.”

This gave Daryl pause. He looked at Rick suspiciously through his mop of hair. “Why she think that?”

Rick shuffled his feet before he looked at the ground. “Because I told her.” His eyes met Daryl’s and he shrugged. “Had to be done.”

“Why?”

The simple question made Rick freeze. He didn’t know how to answer it without sounding like a selfish fool. Daryl wouldn’t understand.

“You wanted to get Merle out of Woodberry.”

Daryl huffed like a bull. “Merle died trying to save our asses!”

“She’s a good person,” Rick insisted firmly. “I’ve known her since I was 22.”

“She’s fucking the enemy!” Daryl’s voice had gotten dangerously loud.

Rick watched as dozens of faces turned to them. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Did you notice that she hadn’t fired a single shot against us? Not when they first showed up, not even in the firefight the other day.”

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Daryl took a step back. “Put her through a test.” He nodded at the outpost. “Have her kill them.”

“How about we use her as a shield?”

Both men turned as Tara appeared next to Daryl. “Just march her in there ahead of us and let her get riddled with bullets. _Then_ she can stay.”

Rick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The feral need to protect washed over him like a tidal wave. They didn’t know you. They didn’t know what you had been through. They didn’t know that you had to have been tortured every single second you had been at the Sanctuary.

“She’s pregnant.”

“Yeah, and so is Maggie, and they almost killed her,” Tara spat. “I’m not looking after the little anti-Christ.”

Somehow, Rick was able to keep his voice calm. “If she helps us take the station, will you cooperate?”

Daryl grunted and nodded his head. Tara wasn’t so sure.

“I’ll kick you out,” Rick threatened with a shrug. “Leave you behind with no food or water.”

At this, Tara was left speechless and Daryl’s usual scowl was replaced with a brief look of surprise.

“No one would let you do that,” Tara said softly. Her dark eyes shined with hurt.

Rick shook his head. “Carl wants her to stay. I know I can get Michonne on board.”

“By kicking out one of our own?” Daryl stepped in between Rick and Tara. “For someone we don’t even know?”

Rick jabbed a finger against his chest. “I know her!” he bit through gritted teeth, his calm façade finally cracking.

Daryl began to back away, eyeing Rick up and down. “Yeah, apparently.” He turned and headed back to the group.

Rick shook his head. Placing a hand to his temple, he looked at Tara. “She’s not one of them.”

Tara glared. “Does she even want to be here?” Her words rang in Rick’s ears even after she had left.

Rick rubbed his brow. “Shit.” He slowly walked back to the car, stressed and overwhelmed. He needed to make sure that he appeared confidant when he talked to you, or you were going to sink further than you already were.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. “Hey,” he greeted gently.

You didn’t even look up.

Briefly looking over his shoulder, Rick slid into the backseat and shut the door. “You don’t have to worry about them. Everyone’s fine with you being here.” When you didn’t answer, Rick stretched his arm across the back of his seat, trying to find an appropriate way to comfort you.

“Is it hard?”

Rick cocked his hand. You were staring blankly at the seat ahead. “Is what hard?”

“Raising Judith by yourself.”

Oh, shit.

Rick’s eyelashes fluttered as he tried to recover from the reality slap. “I have a whole bunch of people to help me. It takes a village.”

“But her mother is dead.”

He had taken away your child’s chance at knowing his or her father, and Negan’s right to know his child.

Well, he should have thought of that before he became a violent psychopath.

You straightened up for the first time that day. “I mean, you have to look at her, and _see_ her, don’t you?” You looked at Rick. “He had a big heart, and you just stabbed a stake through it.”

Rick was dumbfounded by your infatuation. “Don’t tell me he was a good man.”

You looked at Rick. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re a good man, Rick Grimes. You’re exactly the same, willing to sacrifice peace for the sake of winning.” You looked at him. “Do you know that he is – was, very adamant about killing as few people as possible?”

Rick snorted. “He shouldn’t kill people as an example in the first place.”

You nodded. “No, he shouldn’t. But how many times have you killed for your own personal gain?” When Rick was quiet, you spoke again. “Or when your friends disagreed with your decision?”

Rick’s heart dropped. Who the hell had you become?

“Are you going to kill them?” You looked at the outpost.

“We need to take all of them out, even if Negan’s dead,” he answered simply. “They could rebuild.”

You sighed. “If that makes you feel better.”

Rick decided to take your words and bury them deep down. “Listen, we’re gonna need your help with this.” He looked over his shoulder at the group of people huddled under the trees. “It will make everyone feel better.”

You smiled wryly. “So everyone’s not okay with me staying.”

Rick chuckled. “This will help.”

You held out your wrists. “Okay, sheriff.”

It was the first time Rick saw you smile and his heart warmed. Maybe things were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This made me realize that what makes writing this so fun is Negan. That dude is fun to write. I'm sorry if this was boring without the main man. It's just important exposition.


	40. Menelaus

The key turned, unlocking the handcuffs with a satisfying click. The metal had been hot from sitting underneath the Virginia sun, and you rubbed the red rings they left on your wrist. They would serve as a reminder of your ordeal for the next few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” Rick apologized, looking genuinely remorseful. “Like I said, just help us in there and they’ll trust you.”

You pulled your lips over your teeth and sighed. “I’m sorry, too.”

Rick’s brow creased. “For what?”

“This.” You stabbed your elbow into his crotch, causing your friend to hack out a stuttered choke. Reaching over him, you ripped the car door open and shoved Rick out. “I’ll wait for you at Alexandria. I won’t stop you from killing those Saviors, but I won’t help you either.” After slamming the door shut, you crawled to the front seat, relieved to see that the keys were already in the ignition.

A shout made you look out the passenger’s side window; the group had begun to stampede towards you. Knowing you only had a few seconds left until they reached you, you stomped your foot on the gas pedal and took off.

Your breathing began to steady as you turned onto the open road. You had taken a chance, hoping that your history with Rick would protect you from any future hostility. What you had just done was bold, and it was possible that even Rick would throw you to the wolves.

You tapped your fingernails anxiously on the steering wheel. It was the first time you had been alone since Negan’s death, and it hit you like a ton of bricks. You began to look around the desolate road, its black pavement covered in leaves and brush. The world had been dead and empty, but now it was truly lifeless. Rick had blocked out the sun and you were doomed to walk in a world of shadow.

With a shaky gasp, you touched a hand to your chest. People were wrong when they described heartbreak. You didn’t feel broken or torn. Your heart didn’t shatter into a million pieces.

It didn’t even feel like it was there.

It felt like the life had been taken out of you.

Overwhelmed, you wrenched the steering wheel to the right and parked the car on the side of the road. Your face crumbled as you pressed it against the steering wheel.

You missed his stupid face. You missed his crude jokes and the cocky way he sauntered down the halls. You missed the way he bit his tongue when he was planning something particularly dastardly and how he looked at you when he took your clothes off.

You had no idea how you were going to be able to look at your son or daughter without feeling torn in half. It was already coming into a decayed dystopia. Now the kid didn’t even have a father.   

With a surge of stubbornness, you choked down the oncoming tears. Negan wouldn’t want you to cry. In fact, he would have berated you for it, called you a pussy.

He _definitely_ would have called you a pussy.

You had a “badass little dude” to raise and there wasn’t any time for wallowing.

Your jaw set, you set off to Alexandria.

~*~

While you were confident that Rick had enough clout to protect you from the wrath of his people, he was still presumably dismantling the Saviors, and waltzing into Alexandria without your only ally was an unwise decision.

You parked your car ten minutes outside of the safe zone and traveled the rest of the way on foot. You would enter from the back, undetected with no drama. It didn’t take you long to find the wall, and it wasn’t hard to scale it. Little did you know that your husband had climbed the very same wall only a few days before.

Landing with relative ease, you began to weave through the tall grass of the backyards. You had a relative idea of where Rick’s house was. Alexandria was a cookie cutter neighborhood and the houses looked more or less the same, so you had to be careful.

“This should be it,” you murmured, coming to a stop at a light grey house. Ducking down, you slinked down the side of the house and climbed up onto the porch’s roof. To your delight, the window was unlocked. After briefly looking over your shoulder, you opened the window and slipped inside.

You would hide here until Rick came back. You just had to find a good place to hunker down.

You began to wander around the upper floor. You knew where Judith’s room was from your previous visit, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Timidly, you pushed open a door at the end of the hallway.

The room was sparsely decorated, with nothing but a sleeping bag and a few candy wrappers. You smiled. It was clearly a boy’s room, Carl’s room.

The sound of the front door opening sprung you into action. Your eyes darted around the room, looking for a hiding spot. As soon as they landed on the closet door, you leapt forward and buried yourself in the rack of clothes. Leaving the door open just enough to see outside, you waited.

A set of footsteps clomped up the stairs. Whoever it was, he or she was in a hurry. Suddenly, the bedroom door was ripped open and Carl came barreling through.

The younger Grimes was covered in dirt and his skin was coated with small cuts. However, his physical state was nothing compared to the look on his face.

The amazing thing about Carl was that he was absolutely fearless. Maybe it was because he had grown up during the apocalypse, but the kid truly seemed to be unshakable. It was why Negan liked him so much. But in that moment, you saw fear in the young man’s blue eye. It didn’t take long to figure out why.

With a wince, Carl lifted up his shirt, exposing the vicious bite mark on his ribcage.

You went slack jawed. “Oh my God.”

Faster than a cobra, Carl had his gun aimed at the closet. “Come out,” he ordered.

Hands up, you nudged the door open. “Hey, Carl,” you greeted sheepishly.

The gun dropped to Carl’s side as he looked at you, completely confused. “What are you doing?”

You lowered your hands. “Waiting for your dad. I’m joining you.”

“You’re leaving the Saviors?”

“Negan’s dead. I don’t fit in with the rest.”

Carl licked his lips and shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Why?”

Tossing his backpack on the ground, Carl knelt down and pulled out his walkie talkie. “Dad would have said something. _Someone_ would have said something.” He looked up. “Negan’s dead? That’s a big deal.”

You sat down on the carpet. “Well, everyone was in the middle of a battle and then he was talking to me. When I left they were about to take over the satellite outpost. He had his hands tied.”

Carl pursed his lips, looking unconvinced. “I guess so.” He slid down into the corner of the room. “Are you going to ask about it?” He looked up at you through his mop of silky hair. 

The melancholy on his face was truly heartbreaking.

“You got bit,” you said simply.

Carl smiled, glad he didn’t have to relive his death sentence. Leaning forward, he grabbed his backpack and pulled out a handful of paper and a pen.

“I’m going to write everyone a letter, including you and Negan.” You went to speak, but Carl spoke over you. “ _If he’s alive_ , I want you to give it to him. And I don’t want you to read your letter until I’m gone,” he looked up and smiled, “because you’re more likely to listen because you’ll feel bad.”

“You’re a real bastard, Carl.”

Carl offered you a tiny smile. “Was my dad lame when he was young?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He opened his arms in a silent invitation and you gave him a loving hug. “What are you going to do?”

Carl bit his lip as he took a few seconds to think. “Have the best last day that I can. Want to help?”

You kissed the top of his head. “Absolutely.”

~*~

You sat on the porch, safe under the cover of darkness. The rhythmic squeak of the rocking chair lulled you into a state of almost relaxedness. You gazed at the empty chair to the right and sighed. It had been such a sight to see the big bad Negan sit in that very chair, fawning over a little girl that wasn’t even his – that was his _enemy’s_.

He would have been a good father.

It had been a good day, seeing as the love of your life was dead and your nephew in spirit was dying. You looked down at the two blue handprints drying on the corner of the porch.

Leaning back, you closed your eyes. You didn’t have a single picture of Negan, or anything that recorded his likeness. You needed to set aside time to remember him every day, to see every detail until your dying breath so that the memory never faded. You needed to remember his face, his voice –

You opened your eyes and sat up. His voice?

Many people heard the voices of loved ones who had passed, but it was from a psychological need to see the person again. However, this booming sound of cocky and charismatic douchebag was unmistakable. You just had to make sure you weren’t already going to crazy.

Throwing caution to the wind, you bolted for the front gate.

_“How about we all just stop playing with our dicks and you just send Rick out?”_

You mercilessly shoved through Alexadrians, not caring if they were going to shoot you.

_“I mean, I’m still gonna murder ya’ll dead, but we got this whole Trojan War thing going on now and I really wanna get the ball rolling. Then you can start composing those apologies.”_

You shot up the latter to the watch post and stumbled onto the platform. Gripping the handle, you looked down.

The Saviors stood, gathered around the gate of Alexandria, heavily armed and ready for a fight. The convoy sat behind them, surely packed with more firepower and ammo. It was obvious that this wasn’t just a raid – this was a siege.

As big as this was, it was nothing compared to who stood front and center. Grinning ear to ear like an asshole, was Negan.

He raised a microphone to his lips. “’Bout time you showed up.” He opened his arms. “Pulled a Jesus! Gonna have them make a holiday after me.”

You covered your mouth with your hand and closed your eyes, doing your best to contain yourself. Without opening your eyes, you gave a pathetic half wave as a few tears slid down your cheeks.

“So, you coming down?”

You nodded, your hand still clamped over your mouth and eyes still glued shut. It was weird to have two civilizations pay witness to such an intimate moment, but you had tunnel vision as you climbed down ladder.

The rest of the world faded away as you approached Negan, but before you could touch him, before you knew he was real, he put a hand to your chest, stopping you in your tracks.

The action was jarring and hurtful, almost as painful as his perceived death. Before you could turn away, Negan dropped the microphone and turned. Looking at you through the corner of his eye, he motioned for you to follow with a jerk of his head and a wave of his hand.

You navigated through the convoy, stepping between the cars and trucks as confused as ever. Negan walked with ease in front of you, with one hand in his pocket and Lucille resting over his shoulder. You had no idea what he had planned, but you knew not to ask questions.

Your adventure finally came to an end when you stepped behind the last truck. Leaning Lucille against the vehicle, Negan wordlessly wrapped an arm around your waist and gently brought you to him. He sighed as he buried his nose in your hair and ran a soothing hand up and down your back.

You were overwhelmed with familiarity. Negan smelled like leather, wood polish, and the after shave he always used. He smelled like him. He smelled _alive_.

You hugged his chest as you nestled yourself against him. “I only left because-”

“I know. How the diddlyfuck did it even happen?”

“I went out to look for you when everyone else ran in.”

Negan smashed his fist against the truck. “I can fucking take care of myself! What if you died because you had to play superhero?” 

“What if _you_ did?”

Negan looked away and sighed. “You know, your lady balls can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.” He kissed your cheek. “How’s that lil’ shit doing?”

“Good.” You leaned up and kissed him. "How'd you know why I left?"

"I'll explain later," he mumbled, more interested in sticking his tongue down your throat. He pressed you against his shoulder and slowly rocked from side to side. “Five people and you were the only one who came back for me. I might have to do some reorganizing.” Weaving his fingers through your hair, he said, “You go back home.  Everything’s been taken care of. I got some business to conduct here and I’ll be back.”

You placed your hands on both sides of his face. “Come back.”

He moved your palm to his lips. “No shit.” He tossed you the keys to one of the cars.

“I love you.” You slid into the driver’s seat. Negan answered with a wink.

As you pulled away from the convoy, he sighed. It had been the perfect opportunity to express his feelings, but once again it had been squandered by his cowardice.

Grabbing Lucille, he started back towards Alexandria. He felt bad for sending you away, but it had to be done. If you knew what he was about to do, you would never forgive him. But Negan was Menelaus and Rick was Paris. He wasn't going to leave until Alexandria was nothing but smoke, ash, and bad memories for these sack of shits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't the drama


	41. Freaky Deaky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit o' sin

The floors of the Sanctuary were streaked with blood. Heaps of bodies of people you once knew and of the living dead were scattered among the building, their putrid stench hanging heavy in the air. The smell of rancid flesh made your eyes water, but you stepped over the rotting limbs without a complaint. You were home, a place you never thought you would see again.

Only two hours ago you had been drowning in a pit of despair. You had thought Negan was dead and you were alone in the world, but you had been lied to. Negan truly was as indestructible as he seemed, and seemingly rose from the ashes.

As soon as you stepped into your bedroom, you stripped yourself of your clothes and changed into your pajamas. The simple t-shirt and shorts were soft on your skin and you already felt your muscles start to relax.

Grabbing your book off the coffee table, you crawled onto your bed and sank into the mattress. After the firefight at Alexandria, Negan had tossed Candide at you without a word. The scowl on his face had prompted you to keep your mouth shut and you decided to figure out the book’s significance on your own. Luckily, it didn’t take long.

Candide’s ignorant Leibnizian optimism was reminiscent of Rick’s idea of the ideal society. He still had the belief that this was a battle of good versus evil, that life was black and white.  In truth, there were no longer white knights, and he refused to see that. Voltaire’s snarky commentary, criticism against nobility, philosophy, and a handful of other topics during the French Enlightenment was both hysterical and intellectually stimulating.

You wanted to stay up and wait for Negan, but as you read about Candide’s adventures, you found your eyelids grow increasingly heavy. The next time you blinked, the morning sun was peeking through the curtains.

You sat up. “Negan?” Your eyes roamed the room frantically. It hadn’t been your intention to fall asleep, and you felt like a real dick for passing out. You looked at the other side of the bed.

The blankets were undisturbed and as you placed your hand on the covers, you felt no warmth.

“Right here, sweet girl.”

You turned and a flower immediately bloomed in your chest. Negan stood in the bathroom doorway, in his t-shirt and jeans, furiously rubbing a towel over his head. The steam from the bathroom wafted over you, incasing you in a blanket of warm air.

“I’m sorry. I tried to stay up, but I fell asleep.”

 “I got back thirty minutes ago. You and that dude need to sleep, or it’s gonna come bursting out of you like that asshole in Alien.” He splayed his fingers out and bulged his eyes.

You brushed the hair out of your eyes and chuckled. “You mean the alien?”

God, you missed this.

Negan tossed the towel to the ground and a small gasp fell from your lips. Several cuts and scrapes blemished Negan’s cheek and forehead. You were across the room before Negan could tell you to fuck off.

You cupped his face. “What happened?” You traced the thin lines on his cheekbone with your thumb.

Negan encircled his fingers around your wrist, holding your hand in place. “Cool shit.”  The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a wolfish grin.

“Negan,” you let his name trail off. You weren’t in the mood for joking. By the grace of God, Negan seemed to understand.

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and tilted his head. “It’s just an occupational hazard. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really deal with assholes with hugs and kisses. But _you_ -” he raised his eyebrows and pointed a finger, “I could kiss you all damn day.”

You stretched out a hand and Negan took it, allowing you to pull him to you. With a smirk, Negan backed you onto the edge of the bed. You sat as soon as the back of your legs hit the bedframe.  Negan nestled himself between your thighs.

You put a hand on his chest and gazed up at him. “Yesterday was the worst day of my life.”

With a roguish smile, Negan ran his knuckles down your cheek. “I’m not fucking dying. Ever.”

You took his hand in yours and began to mindlessly play with his fingers. “I felt empty. The earth felt empty.”

“You’re a bumfucking sweetheart, aren’t you?” Negan asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not leaving, either.”  He tilted your chin upward and you saw that the laughter had gone from his eyes. “Did that prick do anything to you?”

“Other than make me think you were dead, nothing. He wanted me to help him take over the satellite outpost, but I stole one of their cars and took off. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. There were too many of them.”

“Hey!” Negan barked. “You did exactly what you should have given the circumstances.” He looked away, an angry red flush dusting his face. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Negan.” You turned his face back to you and stood up. Your bodies flush together, he had you pinned against the side of the bed. “Be here,” you breathed.

Your eyes met and the air had suddenly become electric. The room’s charged atmosphere proved to be overwhelming, and your heart fluttered against your chest. One moment Negan was dead, the next he was resurrected and reading your soul.

Caressing your face, Negan found himself saying the words he had spoken to Gabriel in the trailer; “You’re fucking beautiful.”

You didn’t know that for the first time in years, Negan’s barricades had crumbled. You didn’t know that he too had struggled with the very real possibility of your death, and you never would.

He would make sure of that.

So this sudden softness caught you completely off guard. You weren’t even given a chance to respond, because his mouth was on yours faster than you could take a breath. He laced his fingers through your hair as he followed you onto the bed. You welcomed his weight; Negan was warm and familiar. He was safe. He was home.

Your hands snaked under the thin fabric of his shirt, ghosting your fingertips over his skin. Your eyes fluttered closed as you traced the lean muscle.

“Get this bullshit off,” he mumbled, pulling away long enough to rip your shirt off. The fabric was soft on your skin and prickled with static as it slid over your head. With a satisfied sigh, Negan straightened up. “I gotta say, your tits are _the tits_.” As if to prove his point, he leaned down and took a sensitive peak in his mouth.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, lovingly massaging and tugging as his mouth wandered - his loud, stupid, witty, _filthy_ mouth.

He slid his body up yours and placed a sloppy kiss over your throbbing pulse.

“You smell good,” you whispered against his cheek. He had just shaved and his skin was as smooth as silk.

“It’s ‘cause I showered.” He took his shirt off. “You should fucking try it some time.” When you looked horrified, he snorted. “It was a joke.”

Touching a hand to his chest, you gently pushed him up to his knees. “You’re a dick,” you said, looking him dead in the eye as you hovered your hand around the waistband of his pants.

“If you’re looking for boner town, you fucking found it.” He took your hand and pressed it to his crotch, and boner town it was. At your touch his eyelids closed and he emitted a soft growl.

Cupping the nape of his neck, you brought him down to you. You parted his lips with your tongue and he took a firm grasp of your ass, all the while you played with the button of his jeans.

“Are you gonna unleash the goddamn beast or what?” he asked against your lips, teetering on the edge of playful and genuine frustration. You laughed into his mouth and he tugged at your lip with his teeth.

You acted on pure animal instinct when you had your clothes off. Negan’s fingertips danced down your skin, setting it aflame. His touch left you squirming in anticipation. It was a symphony of sensations – a sharp bite to your hip, a soft kiss to your neck, and the scratch of his fingernails as he dragged them down your back.

His kisses were bruising and you could already imagine the bite marks that were going to pepper your neck, but you didn’t care. When he finally slipped between your legs, you saw sparks. He was alive, here, with you, fingers threaded with yours and lips whispering snarky sweet nothings into your ear.

You came undone with a shuttered sigh as he unleashed a slew of obscenities into your hair.

Negan’s eyes darted across your face as he hovered over you, resting his weight on his forearm. His breath came out in shallow pants, fanning your face. His lip twitched into a snarl.

“I’m gonna kill him.” He gripped the sheets once with his fist before dropping his forehead against yours. His eyes were closed and you could count every single eyelash. Without another word, he pulled away and got dressed. Your eyes followed his hand as he zipped up his jacket.

Tapping Lucille against his boot, Negan gave your chin an affectionate squeeze before slipping out the door, leaving you dazed and confused.

Especially about the nasty bruises on his body.

~*~

Negan sauntered down the road, swinging Lucille in a few lazy circles before propping her up on his shoulder. The night was cool and crisp between the explosions of hell fire he was raining down on Alexandria. A plume of flames exploded to his right, lighting up the sky in an orange, satanic glow.

Oh, balls. It was a church.

…Nice.

Yeah, you would definitely not approve of him blowing up buildings, of setting a whole town on _fire_. He had done the right thing in sending you away. Negan couldn’t risk you having another relapse; what’s more, he couldn’t live in a world where you hated him. He knew that you would never forgive him for this because of your past trauma.

He felt a slight twinge in his chest. You had such a soft heart and he loved the shit out of you for it, but it could be a real thorn in his side at times – times such as now.

Negan grinned. This was his victory walk, and it was fucking _cool-as-shit_! Another burst of flames set his hazel eyes ablaze.

He began to spin Lucille again as he murmured to himself, "‘Live or die - that is the lovely give-and-take of war.’"  

Happy as a clam, Negan hopped up onto Rick’s porch and barged into the fuckwit’s house. Everything was about to come to fruition. He truly couldn’t believe that he was so fucking close. After you had left, Carl said that Rick wasn’t on the compound - but he didn’t trust that kid as far as he could throw him, which was totally awesome, but also totally annoying. So Negan made sure his footsteps were light as he stalked throughout the dark suburban cesspit, making sure the prick wasn’t hiding in the shadows.

That was his job.

Pushing open one of the doors to a familiar room on the second floor, his lips twisted into a grin. “Well, tickle my balls.” He reached into Judith’s crib and picked up the quivering girl. “Who the fuck forgot about you?” It was just too goddamn perfect.

The sound of the front door swinging open made both heads turn. His smile only widening, Negan strode to the top of the stairs. He knew those obnoxious footsteps anywhere.

“Is that you, prick?”

Rick swooped the barrel of his gun up the stairs. His initial look of aggression was immediately washed away by fear as he saw Negan balance his baby daughter on his hip.

“Let her go,” he demanded firmly.

Negan curled his lip, eying Rick’s tattered state. “You look the way shit stinks.”

“ _Give me my daughter!_ ” Rick shouted.

Negan snorted. “You didn’t seem too concerned about her ten minutes ago when you fucking forgot about her as you pussyfooted off.” He leaned back as he eyed Rick up and down. “You know, this is really kinda ironic, don’t you think? Bit of a role reversal.” He swiped his finger between them. “You know, you kidnapping my wife, thus _my_ kid by default.” Negan pressed Judith’s head into the crook of his neck, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet. Part of it was to piss Rick off, the other part was because it felt right.

“I was saving her, _and_ the kid,” Rick somewhat mocked through gritted teeth, a vein in his neck bulging. “You know about that, right?” He took a step forward.

Negan shook his head, wetting his smile with his tongue. He was impressed with the cop’s sass. “No, Rick. What you did was break up a family with some real weasely shit!” He dangled Judith over the stairs. “If you’re gonna do something, do it with some goddamn balls.”

The bullet exploded loud enough to make Negan’s ears ring. He instinctually curled over Judith, cradling her to his chest and covering her head with his hand. He looked back up at Rick. “Shooting at your own kid? I asked you to have some balls, not be a sick fuck. I mean, damn!” He kicked at the air. “Catch, dickwad.” Negan tossed Judith down the stairs, but in just the right way so Rick could catch her. Hopefully, Rick wouldn’t know that.

Rick lunged forward and caught his daughter before she hit one of the hard steps. He awkwardly looked at Judith, weighing his options because he knew there was going to be a fight. With a fleeting glance at Negan, Rick bolted towards the kitchen.

“You stay in here,” he whispered gently, trying to keep the franticness out of his voice. Rick knelt down and opened the pantry door. He plopped Judith down on the ground and shut the door.  He turned around just in time, because Lucille came crashing down on the floor with a sickening crack.

“Playin’ whack-a-mole!” Negan quipped, ripping the bat from the floor, taking a good hunk of it with him. He gave Lucille a shake, making the wood chips fly off her barbs.

Rick rolled to the right and jumped to his feet. He needed to get away from the psychopath and find something to defend himself with _now_. He had a gun, but this was close combat, and Negan had the upper hand. His first instinct was to go to the kitchen.

“Run, run, run, as fast as you can,” Negan chanted as Rick stumbled into the kitchen. Following him, he took advantage of the smaller space and cornered Rick against the counter.

Just as Negan was winding up for another hit, Rick ripped open the refrigerator door and smashed it against Negan’s face. As he stumbled backwards, Rick pulled open a drawer and pulled out a knife.

“You don’t even tell her you _love her_ ,” he seethed.

Negan straightened his jaw and looked up. He smiled. “Don’t need to.” Before he could straighten up, Rick kicked him in the chest, making him fall on his back.

Negan was smart enough to touch his chin to his chest so that his head didn’t bang against the floor. His foresight allowed him to keep enough wits about him and swipe his leg against Rick’s ankles, making the man drop heavily to the ground.

Negan pounced on him faster than a lion. Straddling Rick’s waist, he gave him a good crack on the jaw. “I _got_ her sober.” A punch. “I _keep_ her sober.” A second punch. “Take care of her, and _you_ stick up for-”

Rick butted him in the head.

“Shit!” Negan swore, falling back.

Rick got to his feet and kicked Negan in the ribs. He wanted him on the ground when he stabbed the blade into his heart.

“ _She_ did that,” he rasped through his bruised jaw. Before he could deal the killing strike, Negan reached for Lucille and cracked her against Rick’s kneecaps.

Negan leapt to his feet and took Rick by the collar. Shoving him against the wall, he pressed Lucille’s handle across his throat, cutting off his oxygen and pinning him in place.

“Listen, asswipe,” he growled. “You don’t touch my family or I will impale yours, and your people. I will stick a spike right up your ass, and you’ll be dying for _days_.” He pressed the handle down harder as Rick struggled, eliciting a gurgle. “I’m only keeping you alive just so you can see me fuck with everything you care about.”

Just when it looked like Rick was going to pass out, Negan released him. The sheriff dropped to the floor and didn’t get up.

“You’re a real dickhead,” Negan drawled, spitting out a mouthful of blood. He gave Rick a good kick in the side before walking out the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...had so much fun with this. I was waiting to write the last scene since I typed the first word to this story. Definitely one of my favorite things I've done in this.


	42. Right By Your Side

“Please explain to me how an entire colony just disa-fucking-ppears into the night,” Negan demanded into his walkie talkie.     

The voice that played back through the speaker was static-y. “We’ve walked through the entire place twice already.”

Negan closed his eyes, asking the world to give him strength. “Do ya’ll got flashlights?”

“No?”

Negan held the speaker against his lips. “Well, you better fucking get some because I want you to check each other’s assholes. Find these shit stains.” He tossed the radio onto the table and shook his head. He rubbed his forehead. “This is unbelievable.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table and lacing your fingers together. You smirked. “Is it, though?”

Negan returned the smirk. “No, it’s not,” he admitted.

He sat at the head of the conference table, slouched in his chair with his legs propped up on the table and Lucille resting loyally in front of him. He had been monitoring a group of trusted Saviors patrolling Alexandria, searching every nook and cranny for Rick and his rag tag team of pain in the asses all morning.  You sat by his side for no other reason than he liked having you there.

You placed a hand on his foot. “Take a breath, daddy-o.”

Negan chuckled, always amused by your pet name. He retracted his legs and cradled your head into the crook of his neck, running his thumb up and down your cheek.

“Don’t have the fucking time, sweet girl. It’s ‘wabbit season.’”

You took in a breath, contemplating your next words. “Do we have to keep doing this?”

Negan leaned away and arched an eyebrow. He looked you over. “What are you saying?”

You knew you were treading on dangerous ground. Your mouth had suddenly gone dry and you shifted in your seat. The next words that came out of your mouth had to be chosen carefully.

“What if we just dropped this – all of it?” You were staring at the table, a faraway look in your eyes and a sad smile on your face. “Is Alexandria really a resource when they’re fighting us tooth and nail every step of the way? We’ve lost so many people, some really good people.” The chubby face of Fat Joey flickered across your mind. “And as much as you hate him, Rick’s been my best friend since-”

“I thought I was your best friend?”

You looked up and a wave of relief crashed over you. Negan’s eyes were sparkling as he watched you, a crooked smile on his face.

You placed two fingers underneath his chin. “Of course you are.” When your grins meshed together, he immediately slipped his tongue passed your lips, making you laugh into the kiss. Negan explored your mouth with same enthusiasm Sir Walter Raleigh had while looking for El Dorado.

After a final peck, you pulled back and threaded your fingers with his. “I just want it to stop.”

Negan sighed. Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned towards you. “All those people out there-” He pointed a finger at the door. “I got hardened criminals, murderers, bank robbers, shit, even people from the mafia, and every single one of them has taken the knee. I also have a bunch of helpless people who would die within a day out in the wastelands if this place fell. Rick Grimes’ posse isn’t walking free after the shit they pulled.” He chopped his hand against the table. “That’s rewarding insubordination. And even if I did give them the opportunity, do you really think they’re just gonna walk away at this point in the game?” Negan’s face softened and he took you by the chin. “They fuckin’ took you and the badass little dude from me. I’m not gonna let that slide.”

You reached forward and brought Negan’s forehead to your lips. “You’re a good man.”

This side of Negan was truly good. He had a big heart where it counted and you loved him for it. You reached forward and pressed your hand over the strong beat.

“I love you.”

Negan placed his hand over yours and gave it a squeeze.

He had left you in bed that morning in a huff, overwhelmed and angry. If he were to be completely honest with himself, Negan would admit that a twinge of fear had begun to creep its way into his heart. Being that close to you, looking into your eyes, made him realize what Rick had taken from him – what he could still take from him. It had taken everything in him not to kill Rick the night before, but it wasn’t the right time. There was no way his jolly bunch of assholes would surrender anytime soon if he offed their leader, and he wanted Rick to suffer.

Negan pushed his chair back. “C’mere.”

You got up and settled yourself on his lap, draping your legs over his.

Negan tapped his forehead against your temple, hoping to send his feelings to you via touch.

Before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door.

“This better be important!” Negan barked as you slipped off of him. He was not in the fucking mood today.

Simon stepped through the door, a hard look on his face. If he was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it. He gave a respectful nod your way before he looked at Negan.

Negan motioned to the chair to his right. “Well, sit the fuck down.”

Simon’s eyes briefly flicked up to yours and you stood up. He wanted to speak to Negan in private, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Negan didn’t like people telling you what to do

You stood up and smiled. “I’ll leave you to it.” Placing a hand on his shoulder, you kissed Negan on the top of his head. “I’ll be in textiles.”

Negan offered a smile and a gentle palm to your stomach. “Fuck off.”

With a two finger salute, you crossed the room and stepped out into the hallway. You shut the door quietly behind you.  Part of you wanted to stay and press you ear against the steel. Now that you were on the council, Negan never let you miss a meeting. Whatever this was, it was significant if he had to kick you out.

It turned out that the decision would be made for you.

Inside the conference room, the air was thick. Oh boy, Negan had not known what tension was until Simon had questioned his judgment. Negan remembered in the early stages of your relationship, before you were romantically involved, how you had questioned him, called him out on his bullshit, and he had absolutely loved it. He had told you so. Part of it was because you were absolutely adorable, but the real reason was because you did it correctly.

There were certain times to second guess your leader and word choice was a powerful thing. You had navigated both perfectly, so much so that it was one of the reasons why he was wearing a ring on his finger.

But Simon…oh, Simon.

How he could just rip off that porn star, handlebar mustache and shove it down his throat right now. However, Negan restrained himself. As out of line as Simon was being, he had years of being a model right hand man behind him. So he deserved a second chance.

Negan sat, his lips upturned into that deadly, serene smile that made grown men’s knees shake. Threading his fingers together, Negan leaned forward. It was time to shut this shit down.

Before he could get a word in edge wise, there was another knock on the door.

“Why don’t we all just come the fuck in!” Negan shouted.

“You’re going to want to hear this, sir,” Arat’s voice carried through the door.

Negan went cross eyed, but he gave up. “Come in.”

The lieutenant strode into the room, her mouth set in a hard line. She made it to Negan and bent down, whispering into his ear.

The aggravated look melted as his facial muscles relaxed into a look of shock. Negan’s lips parted slightly as he went slack jawed.

Simon sat up in his chair, immediately on the alert. Negan was never caught by surprise, let alone shocked.

“You okay, boss man?”

Negan’s chair screeched as he jumped to his feet. It was Simon’s turn to look stunned as their fearless leader bolted out of the room, leaving Lucille behind.

Simon turned to Arat. “Christ on a fucking cracker, what did you tell that man?”

~*~

One of the Sanctuary’s biggest assets was its size. The place was an absolute monstrosity and fortified to the point where it was almost repulsive. It could withstand a siege for days – if not weeks, if you had enough food and water. Corpses weren’t even on anybody’s mind while they were within the confines of the concrete walls.

But as Negan bombed down the Sanctuary’s endless hallways, he cursed the building’s immense size. He may have noticed the looks of shock on people’s faces as he passed if his mind wasn’t so preoccupied. They were stunned to see the man who rarely walked faster than a lazy stroll careen by them,

He skidded to a stop outside of the infirmary.

“Fuck my ass,” he swore, peering through the small window on the door. He spun around and leaned his back against the door. Running a gloved hand down his face, Negan took a deep breath. Reaching back, he felt for the doorknob and opened the door.

The shadows had made your cheeks look hollow.

A lump in his throat, Negan reached for your hand. “Sweet girl.”

Your eyelids fluttered open and you immediately panicked. “Everything’s fine!” Your grip on his hand was tight. “Just a little blood spotting.”

“So the kid’s okay?” He nodded at your waist.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Negan opened his arms. “Where _the fuck_ is the doctor?”

You squeezed his hand. “He’s getting me some orange juice. Where’s Lucille?”

Like a man looking for his keys, Negan checked his other hand before looking at the ground. “Spank me silly, I forgot her.” He looked up at you and grinned. “I hauled ass when I heard what happened. Someone will bring her.” He fluttered his hand and clicked his tongue. “Move the fuck over.”

Negan slipped his jacket off and crawled into bed with you. Pulling you onto his chest, you fit fairly comfortably.

Closing your eyes, you lay your ear over his heart and sighed. “So you ran here?”

Negan’s chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Like a goddamn Kenyan. What happened?”

You shifted as you tried to get more comfortable. “It was right after I left. I looked down and-” your voice faltered. “My jeans were stained with blood. I panicked.”

Negan’s face fell. “Oh, honey…” He crushed you against him as a wave of nausea hit him. Brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes, he realized how broken he’d be without you.

~*~

The flash of the Polaroid made Rick squint. He had been lucky; somehow he had been able to find it in the junkyard after Jadis had stolen it from him. Why he had felt the need to grab it, he wasn’t sure - but God, was he glad he did.

“You know you don’t have to actually shake them,” Michonne said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, taking the photograph from Rick’s fingers. Today wasn’t a day for smiling.

They had just finished burying Carl and were now standing among what was left of Alexandria. Negan had come at them with everything he had. The neighborhood was nothing but ruble, ash, and broken hearts. Soot lingered in the air, making it hard to breath.

Rick raised his fist to his mouth and coughed. “It’s a habit,” he rasped. It hurt to talk. Negan had really given him a good walloping last night and a nasty bruise was blooming on his neck where he had crushed Lucille against his windpipe. He couldn’t imagine eating for weeks. Rick just hoped that Negan was feeling his bumps and bruises as well.

Michonne held the picture up to her eyes. The Polaroid showed the remnants of one of the houses, small clusters of flames still lingering here and there.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She looked skeptical.

Rick put his hand on his hip. “He puts up a front, reigns her in with charm.” He pointed to the decimation. “She needs to see this – the _real_ him, the one who murdered Glenn and Abraham. She’ll understand after this- _especially_ this. I rescued her from a fire and it really affected her.”

Michonne bit her lip and looked at the ground. Her brow furrowed before she looked back up. “Why are you so set on this? If she doesn’t want to be here, she doesn’t want to be here. I think she made that clear when she left.”

Rick didn’t answer right away. Gazing up at the sky through squinted eyes, Rick sighed. “There was someone, a terrible person who tried to hurt her and I refused to see it. I could have protected her, but I didn’t, and it ruined her life.” Rick raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “I can’t let that happen again. I owe it to her.” He scratched the back of his neck. “If something happened to her, I don’t know what I’d do. It’d be my fault.”

Michonne took a step forward. “And if this works and she comes back with us? What is she to you?” Her voice was only curious.

Rick licked his lips. This wasn’t the first time this question had crossed his mind. In fact, there was rarely a time when it wasn’t haunting him.

He shrugged. “Best friend.” He snapped another picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized we're approaching the end and I'm really, really unhappy about it. I'm currently in the midst of brain storming another story because this has been the most fun I've had writing. I was born to write this man.
> 
> So prepare yourselves.
> 
> ****  
> [Follow me! The discourse can get so long on here and I love it. Let me know it's you<3](https://dennhomchikn.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	43. Always

The world was still and silent. You heard nothing but the blood rushing to your ears and felt only the pounding of your heart against your ribcage. You couldn’t afford to blink – not at a time like this.

“Shit!” you swore as Rick slapped your hands. You wrenched your abused limbs away, trying to flap away the sting. The skin was already blooming red from the smack. “That really hurt!”

Rick shook his head and chuckled. “It’s called ‘Slaps.’ It’s supposed to hurt.” Rick held out his hands, palm side up. “Try to win for once.”

You curled your lip. “You’re too fast.” You hovered your hands over his.

Rick’s blue eyes glinted with amusement. “It’s about reading your opponent, like poker. Look at my face. If you pay attention, you’ll know when I’m gonna hit you.”

“Oh, that’s a load of-” You were cut short when Rick slapped you again. With a shriek, you shoved him.  

As he stumbled backwards, Rick grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you with him. He brought you to his chest.

“For a cop you have some bad reflexes,” he teased, resting his cheek on the top of your head. You straightened his sheriff’s badge before encircling your arms around his neck.

“And you’re a jerk, but I don’t point it out.” You went to kiss him, but Rick reached over you and snagged a breakfast sandwich. The sandwich was almost gone in one monstrous bite. He looked at you smugly. “No love for losers,” he mumbled through chews.

It was 5AM and you were both an hour early for your shift. You stood in the dimly lit briefing room away from private eyes. If the brass knew about your relationship, they’d surely transfer one of you, or worse - you could lose your jobs. So these quiet moments and soft touches were done in secret and sparingly.

When the florescent lights flicked on, you both jumped away from each other.

Shane raised his hands. “It’s just me, Romeo and Juliet.” He looked at you and gave you a slick smile. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

You crossed your arms and looked away. “Good morning.”

Rick stepped in between you and took his friend by the bicep. Without a word, he led him out into the hallway.

Shane swatted him away like a fly with an aggressive smack. “Get your hands off me!”

Rick crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “You know she doesn’t like it when you talk to her like that.”

Shane’s grin was lecherous. “Then she needs to lighten up. Girls like that should be used to it. She should be flattered.”

Rick gestured down the hallway. “Get out.”

“Are you serious?”

Rick’s jaw tightened and he took a step forward. “Does it look like I’m joking?”

Shane held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot, officer. Fuck.” He retreated down the hallway with a leer.

You looked up when Rick stepped back into the room.

“I’m sorry about that.”

You were sitting in one of the chairs with your legs crossed and your foot anxiously bouncing. “Why are you friends with him? What do you see in him?”

Rick sighed. “When he isn’t running his mouth, he’s a good guy.”

“Unless you have tits.”

Rick pulled his lips over his teeth and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’m really sorry. I told him off and I promise he’ll stay off you.” He took your hand and knelt down. “I’ll make sure, okay?”

He was looking at you so earnestly that you couldn’t reject his pledge. You placed a hand on his scratchy cheek.

“Okay.”

He turned his face and kissed your palm, never breaking eye contact. “We have an easy shift today. I ran into the lieutenant and we’re gonna be on call around Virginia Highland.”

The tension left your shoulders and you leaned forward, resting your forehead against Rick’s shoulder. ‘VaHi’ was one of the safest neighborhoods in Atlanta. If you wanted a boring day, you wanted to be assigned there.

Things were looking up.

~*~

“I’m sorry, I’m just saying that based on history, the Yankees got them beat.” Rick lifted his hand from the steering wheel and let it fall back.

You went slack jawed before you smashed your fist on the dashboard of the police cruiser. “How _dare_ you!”

Rick shrugged. “I don’t like it! But numbers don’t lie. They’ve won twenty three World Series. How many have the Braves won?” He was smiling, clearly amused by your fervor.

It was annoying how calm and reasonable he was being.

You raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Who has gone to the World Series four times in the last five years?”

“And how many times did they win?”

At this, you narrowed your eyes. “That’s not the point.”

Rick laughed. “That is _literally_ the po-” He was cut off when dispatch came over the radio. You both listened intently, curious about what could possibly need your attention in such an affluent neighborhood.

Both of your eyes widened and you turned to each other.

You spoke first. “Did they just?”

“Yeah,” Rick confirmed, turning the keys in the ignition. “Alex Gardner. They have a warrant out.”

Over the last four months a high profile arsonist had been plaguing the city of Atlanta, burning down houses, stores, and vehicles. He would start each fire by sticking a Marlboro cigarette to a book of matches and dump it into a lake of gasoline. It was redundant, but dramatic.  

“How’d they catch him?”

Rick shrugged. “We’ll figure it out after we bring him in.”

You sat back, your pulse throbbing. The arsonist had been running Atlanta’s police force ragged, setting the city on fire and disappearing in a cloud of smoke. It made the drive to his house surreal.

You jumped when Rick placed his hand on your shoulder.

“You ready?”

You were parked in front of a yellow craftsman style house. It sat on a well-manicured lawn with perfectly sculptured shrubs and a candy apple red station wagon parked in the driveway.

“They’re an all American family,” you murmured.

Rick shook his head. “You don’t always know who’s behind closed doors.” He pointed to the front door. “We take it easy. I already called for backup, but I don’t think we’ll need it - he’s never used any firearms. Make sure to stay alert if he bolts.”

You unclicked your seatbelt. “Let’s burn him.”

The corner of Rick’s lip quirked upward and he rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah.”

You slipped out of the car, the weight of your pistol comfortable in your hand. Gardner may not have a history with firearms, but he was a dangerous man.

You were on high alert as you crossed the front lawn. Gardner could appear out of nowhere, attack you from behind or the side. This was when you had to put your trust in your partner, and you had complete faith in Rick. Partners in life and partners on the job, you were the dynamic duo. He saved your ass more times than you could count and vice versa.

Stepping onto the porch, you looked at Rick. After he gave you an encouraging nod, you rapped your knuckles against the door. “Police! Open up!” You both waited, ears trained for the slightest sound.

“Look through the window,” Rick said with a jab of his head.

You peered through the sidelight window and your heart stopped. “Oh my God!”

Inside Alex stood in the middle of his living room, pouring the last of a jug of kerosene on the carpet. Next to him were his wife and two children, tied and gagged.

Rick leapt forward and looked into the house. “Shit! He knew we were coming!”

Time slowed when Alex turned to you. With a sick grin, he flicked open his lighter and lit the cigarette.

“No!” you shouted before he let it fall to the floor.

Everything that happened next was a blur.

The house went up in flames as fast as one would turn on a light. You felt the heat ripple across your skin. You were too stunned and horrified to move.

Rick’s voice sounded warped, as if he were speaking underwater. “ _Move!_ ” he shouted before taking you by the wrist and wrenching you from the door, but you pulled your arm back.

“They’re still in there!” you called over the roar of the flames. “They’re not that far in.” You smashed your foot against the door and found it to be unlocked. Before Rick could protest, you barreled your way inside.

The only thing louder than the fire were the screams of Gardner’s family. You had to get to them within the next few seconds or they were all going to die. Luckily, the bastard hadn’t been completely thorough with the kerosene and there were still areas that weren’t engulfed in flames.

You began to make your way into the belly of the beast, sweat beginning to dampen your skin. As you dodged the flames, your lungs began to burn. You knew that most people died of suffocation in fires and you understood why – your lungs felt as if they were turning to cinders.

You had made it halfway through the living room when an ominous groan came from above your head. Looking above, you watched as a hunk of the roof gave way. With nowhere to turn, the burning wood smashed into the side of your face and you were on your side.

By now the smoke had brought you into a state of semi-consciousness and your vision began to dim. As the world began to fade, you heard a bloodcurdling scream. It was high-pitched, desperate, and feral. Whoever it was, they were terrified. They were going to die.

Just before you were going to pass out, you realized it was you.

As your vision faded to black, you saw a pair of crystal blue eyes.

~*~

“Fuck!” Rick swore as soon as you catapulted yourself into hell. You were too brave for your own good. There was no way for the Gardners to be saved; the flames were growing too fast and they were too far away. Between that and the time it would take to untie them, you would all be burnt to a crisp, but that didn’t stop you.

Rick spoke into the receiver that sat on his shoulder. “It’s Sheriff Deputy Grimes. I’m gonna need an ambulance at 13 Stillwood Drive _now_. Officer down.”  He didn’t bother to wait for a reply.

Rick’s eyes watered from the smoke, blurring his vision and making it harder to find you. Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he pushed forward. The flames writhed mere inches from his skin, making his uniform stick to him as he ducked and weaved through the deadly maze. A bout of coughing almost made him stop in his tracks, but he had to push forward. He had to find you.

Fear does a lot to a person’s body. It makes one’s heart seize, a chill go down the spine, and time stands still. All of these things happened to Rick as he found you lying on the floor, unconscious with half of your face burning.

Ripping an afghan from the sofa, he suffocated the fire. When the flames died down, he picked you up and careened out of the house.

The sound of sirens echoed through the air as Rick stepped out onto the grassy lawn. The heat on his back was proof that the fire still raged on behind him, but it meant nothing as he set you down on the ground. The side of your face had bloomed into a charred blister, glistening red and oozing.

It brought tears to his eyes. You were going to be in so much pain, possibly for the rest of your life. As the flashing red and blue lights reflected off your face and shoes pounded on the grass, he knelt down.

Your eyes fluttered open and he smiled.

“Hey,” he croaked. The smoke had messed up his lungs and burned the back of his throat.

Your clenched your eyes shut, clearly in agony – but you still answered. “Hi.” You swallowed. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

Rick nodded.

“How’d I get out here?”

“Went in. Got you out.” He cupped your unharmed cheek. “I’ll always get you out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple more chapters to go T_T


	44. Throwing Darts in Lover's Eyes

You sat in front of the fireplace with Negan’s jacket warmly draped over your shoulders. In your hand was a glass of spiced apple cider, a personal favorite of yours that you never thought you’d have after the breakout. You brought the glass to your lips and took a sip of the drink. Closing your eyes, you savored the sweet flavor that reminded you of fiery red and orange leaves, pumpkins, and apple pie.

Little did you know that all of your personal items, favored soaps, foods, and even clothes, were hot commodities among the work force in the Sanctuary. They were worth an obscene amount of points, which really lit a fire under the workers’ ass. It was a secret that Negan would never divulge because he didn’t want you to know that you had him wrapped around your finger.

You perked up when you felt an affectionate scratch on the top of your head.

“You feelin’ better?”

Not taking your eyes away from the flames, you wrapped an arm around Negan’s leg and leaned your head against him.

“I am. Thank you.”

He pointed at the fireplace, the ice cubs in his whiskey clinking. “So this doesn’t bother you?”

You shook your head. “It’s kind fire.”

The corner of Negan’s lips quirked up and he arched an eyebrow. “What the shit?”

“It’s not destroying anything. It’s just providing us comfort.”

Negan snorted into his glass. “Yeah, okay.” He was only able to stay sassy for a few moments. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you eaten? You’re supposed to stay hydrated-”

You looked up and smiled. “Come here.” You wrapped your fingers around Negan’s wrist and pulled him to you.

“If this is a ploy to get into my pants, Carson was pretty adamant about not doing the dirty for a bit.” He sat down with a groan. “C’mere.” He pulled you into his lap and brought you into a warm embrace. Between the crackling fire and the warmth of his arms, the horror of the morning slowly drifted away.

You reached back and threaded your fingers through his hair. “I’m great. How are you?”

Negan’s weary sigh brushed against your ear. “Jesus Christ, you wouldn’t believe what I just dealt with ten minutes ago.” He reached for the drink he had set on the carpet and threw back a healthy sized gulp. “The Widow sent us a care package, one of our own – turned and nailed inside a coffin.”

“ _Why?_ ” Your question came out harshly.

Negan ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, grinning wolfishly. “Aren’t you a fuckin’ spitfire? It’s a message. They took our guys from the satellite outpost hostage and are keeping them at the Hilltop, so they can have my balls in a vice grip.” He chuckled and took another sip of his drink. “Ironic as shit.” His breath fogged the glass.

You leaned back and rested your head against his shoulder. “How so?”

“Because Rick the Prick and the gang think that I’m some soulless monster, that I’m the bad guy. But if I’m really as big of a jackass as they make me out to be, why the fuck would I care if my men are being held hostage?” He shook his head. “Today is just going down the fucking toilet.”

You turned. “What else happened?”

Negan’s cheeks puffed out as he released a dramatic breath of air. “Besides thinking you and our kid were gonna die? Well, Gavin’s just disappeared up his own asshole. Got a search party out on him. Then we got Simon, who all but told me that my methods, the whole foundation of the Saviors, was bullshit.”

A shiver went down your spine. You couldn’t imagine anyone having the audacity to tell Negan that his entire philosophy was wrong. Just the thought of someone challenging him so brazenly scared you. Simon was dancing in front of a firing squad.

“What would he rather you do?”

Negan chuckled darkly. “He wants to kill all of them.”

“You can’t do that!” You jumped to your feet.

Negan stretched out on the carpet, leaning back on his elbows. “Of course not, sweet girl. That is some fucked up shit.”

You deflated at the look of stress on your husband’s face. You sat on the couch and patted your thigh. “Come on.”

With a lopsided grin, Negan crawled onto the couch and rested his head in your lap. You immediately weaved your fingers through his hair, gently massaging and tugging at his dark locks.

“You got magic in those fingers, darlin’.” His eyes still closed, Negan reached up and placed a warm hand against your cheek.

You immediately leaned into his touch.

“Nicholas.” Negan opened his eyes.

You tilted your head. “Who’s that?”

Negan wrapped an arm around your waist. “The kid. It’s a little guy, I can tell. I’m getting a serious douchebag vibe that can only be explained by a ding dong.”

A flower bloomed in your chest and you leaned down, giving Negan a languid kiss. His lips were soft as he worked them against yours. Slipping his fingers through your hair, he quietly moaned into your mouth.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, pulling away. “ _Niccolò_.” Negan’s chuckle and stupid grin answered your unasked questioned.

He looked at the door. “Simon’s gonna be getting back soon after a meet and greet with the garbage people and _hopefully_ with a decent stash of firepower.” He got to his feet and cradled your face in his hands. “Have fun doing jack shit because you’re not going anywhere ever again.” He slipped his jacket off your shoulders and shrugged it on before grabbing a walkie talkie. “If something happens, call me. Channel two.” He propped it on the nightstand. “And fucking pick up when I radio in or I’ll assume you’re dead.”

“What am I supposed to do all day?”

Negan scrunched his face as he swung Lucille over his shoulder. “I don’t fucking know. Nap, read, masterbate.” He pointed a finger. “No, don’t do that unless I’m here to see it and I can-” he pantomimed a few pumps in front of his crotch, “right along with ya.”

You pursed your lips. “Get out.”

With a wink and a perverted grin, he was gone.

When you were sure you were alone, you padded across the room to your backpack. Slipping your hand inside the front pocket, you took out a piece of neatly folded paper. On the front was your name written in Carl’s scrawl.

You had been putting off reading his note. Although you hadn’t known him for long, you loved Carl dearly and opening the note would serve as a reminder that the fearless young man that had barreled into the sanctuary like John Wayne was really gone. Another part of you was afraid of what was inside. Carl specifically instructed you to read it after he had died so that you would listen to what he said. Did that mean you weren’t going to like what you were about to read?

What could he possibly ask of you that was so important?

Settling yourself back in front of the fireplace, you unfolded the paper.

_[Y/n],_

_First, I want to say thank you for spending the day with me. I never really thought about how I would want to spend my last day on earth. It’s not something you should worry about when you have to focus on surviving, but I know that I’d want it to be like this. I’m really happy you hid in my closet._

_I have a few things to ask you and some of it won’t be easy, but I think if anyone can do it, it’s you._

_First, I want you to take care of my dad. He loves you. A lot. Even though things have gotten worse since we met the Saviors, he’s been happier since we found you. He talks about you all the time (he told me not to tell you that his microwave actually worked?) I know he’s not perfect and isn’t handling the situation with you and Negan as well as he should, but it’s because he’s scared for you. I know he’s going to be messed up for a while after I’m gone and if you’re there for him, that would mean a lot._

_I think you and I both want the same thing – peace without conflict. Everyone could drop their weapons and walk away if they wanted to, they’re just too stubborn. So this is the hard thing I’m going to ask of you._

_The one thing my dad and Negan can agree on are their feelings for you. My dad was right, you can stop this. The day I was at the Sanctuary, I saw the smallest bit of humanity in Negan when he was with you. I know it’s there. _

_Just because the world’s dead, doesn’t mean that we have to be._

_You can do this._

_-Carl_

_PS: Carl is a really good name for a boy. Just saying._

A few tears clung to your lashes as you pressed the note over your heart. Carl was right – things did need to end and you _did_ want to walk away peacefully. But did you really have as much power as Carl thought you did? It was true that you were the only constant on both sides, but you doubted that anything could quench the hatred that ran through the men’s veins.

You bit your lip and read the note for a second time. As your eyes darted across the page, a laugh bubbled from your chest. Rick had come to your apartment during your days at the police academy to use your microwave because his had broke. Apparently, it had all been a ruse just to talk to you.

The sound of static made you whip around. Getting to your feet, you walked over to the nightstand and picked up the walki talkie.

“I’m not dead, Negan,” you said with a chuckle.

“It’s Rick.”

Your brow knit together. “Rick? How’d you get on this channel?”

“Do you know the abandoned building across the yard?”

You bit your lip. “I do.”

“Meet me there. I’m on the roof.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Why?”

Rick paused for several seconds before he answered. “To get you out.”

His words weren’t lost on you as you put the walkie talkie down. You rubbed the back of your neck anxiously; Negan had told you to stay here, but Carl had asked you to look after Rick, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious about what he had to say.

In the end, you curiosity and guilt won.

“You’re a real bastard, Carl,” you muttered as you slipped out of the apartment.

~*~

Your hand slid along the bannister of the fire escape as you climbed up to the roof. Your hair whipping across your face, you stepped out into the sun.

Rick was standing at the edge of the roof with a hand on his hip and looking at his feet. He looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Massaging the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaped his lips.

“Rick,” you called.

The sheriff looked up and you felt a pang in your chest. The light had died in his eyes.

“Glad you came,” he said as you sidled up to him. “Carl’s-”

You put a hand on his arm. “I know.”

“He left-”

“I just read mine.”

Rick scratched at his nose. “Can I ask what yours said?”

You grinned. “He did mention something about your microwave working.”

The first smile stretched across Rick’s face that day as a laugh sputtered from his lips. “Why did I tell him that?”

You both looked over the yard. Negan was talking to Simon, casually leaning on Lucille as a stock of weapons were being unloaded from the truck. As much as Simon was trying to appear relaxed, his back was rigid. You couldn’t keep down the small laugh; like everyone else, Simon was nervous talking to the big man.

Your loving gaze hadn’t gone unnoticed. Rick bit the inside of his cheek before reaching into his pocket.

You jumped when a small _thump_ came from your feet. You looked down. “What are these?”

Rick licked his lips. “What I wanted to talk to you about.”

You knelt down and picked up a handful of Polaroids. You gasped and touched your fingertips to your lips.

“Oh my God.” You stared at the images of Alexandria, burned and turned to ash. Your heart had leapt into your throat and a cold sweat began to break out across your skin. “What happened?”

“Negan.” Rick spat the name out as if it were poison.

You slowly got to your feet, having to reach for Rick’s shoulder because the world had begun to spin.

“He didn’t tell me there was a fight-”

“There _wasn’t_.” Rick took a step forward and leaned down so that he was on eye level. “He set the whole place on fire, bombed us while my people hid in the sewer, while my son _died in my arms_.”

Salty tears were running down your cheeks as you shook your head. You began to shuffle through the photos frantically, each picture a worse window into the gruesome reality.

“No, no, no. He would never do this, not unless you provoked him. People are a resource-”

Rick grasped your wrist. “Look.” He pointed to his neck and your mouth fell open. A nasty, blue bruise bloomed across his neck. “We had a fight. He should have had a few bumps and bruises too.”

Your hand went over your mouth. The cuts on Negan’s face, the bruises on his body, why it took him so long to get home…

“I need to go home, Rick,” you whispered before turning on your heel.

Rick didn’t try to stop you. You had slipped the photos into your back pocket.

Holding his walkie talkie up to his lips, he made his second call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have about one or two chapters left depending on whether I can get everything done in a reasonable word count in the next chapter. I am not a happy girl.


	45. Golden Years

You had always told Negan that Simon reminded you of a beady-eyed rodent. He laughed it off, told you to untwist your panties and take a breath. Simon was a loyal right hand man and he trusted him with his life. Yet as Simon passive aggressively assured Negan that he had delivered the standard message to Jadis, Negan swore he smelled a rat.

Before he could thoroughly scrutinize him, his attention was called elsewhere.

“Negan.”

He turned, his mouth set in a firm line. “What?”

The Savior couldn’t keep the surprise off his face as he held up the walkie talkie. “It’s Rick.”

Well, shit just got interesting.

With a lingering glance to Simon to make sure he knew that they weren’t done, Negan snatched the radio from the man’s hand and stalked off.

What this shit stick had to say, Negan wasn’t sure. In an ideal world, Rick would surrender and promise to lick his balls for all eternity, but he knew that was unlikely. He may have beaten the shit out of him and burned down his home, but as far as he knew, there were no casualties. The annoying thing about Rick was that as long as he had bullets, the prick would keep shooting, even if it was him against an army.

Climbing up the steps to the Sanctuary, Negan leaned against the bannister and pressed down on the monitor button and smirked.

“So tell me Rick, what are you wearing?”

Even through the speaker Rick’s voice sounded strained. “Carl’s dead.”

The wind was knocked out of Negan’s chest as he digested Rick’s words. Straightening up, his hazel eyes darted around the yard. He couldn’t talk about this here, not in front of his men. His mouth suddenly dry, Negan licked his lips before retreating into the conference room.

Locking the door, Negan allowed himself to slide down against the metal. Rick didn’t know that he had almost lost his own child that morning.

“He wrote us all letters, wanting peace. He told me [Y/n] has yours.”

Negan only stared at the ground as Rick spoke, his knees drawn up halfway to his chest. His breaths were becoming shallower as he realized just how _real_ death was.

Rick pressed on, unaware that the ruthless leader of the Saviors was on his way to having a full-fledged panic attack.

“But we’re passed the point of peace,” Rick seethed. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Negan blinked. He brought the walkie to his lips. “What happened? Did we-?” He cleared his throat. Negan swore he could feel himself turning into an actual pussy. He didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to handle this. These emotions were new and overwhelming and he really didn’t fucking like it. Apparently, this was what happened when you carelessly stuck your dick into things- you cared.

Rick spat back like a cobra. “No. He died helping someone in need and got bit.”

Negan hung his head. It was such a stupid way for a fearless kid to die. He got _bit?_

“Fuck,” was all he managed as he closed his eyes. “You and that bruised neck aren’t going to believe me, but I am sorry.” He swallowed. “I, uh-I almost lost my boy this morning.” He didn’t know why he decided to share this information or when this had become a male bonding session.

Rick was taken aback. “I’m sorry.” Suddenly, it was no longer a conversation between two sworn enemies, but two fathers. “ How’s-”

“She’s fine,” Negan answered. “Have her on house arrest.”

“Good luck with that,” Rick snorted, making the speaker crackle.

Negan chuckled. “Yeah, no shit.”

“This doesn’t change anything.” The iciness had returned to Rick’s voice.

Negan’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we were just jacking each other off for a second, but you just tugged a little too hard. Why can’t you just lie the fuck down?” His words were gaining their usual fierceness. “ _You_ got Carl killed because you keep whipping your dick out. You could have been there for him if you weren’t trying to take me out, which you’re _really_ bad at, by the way!” Negan’s grip on the walkie talkie tightened. “You gonna kill my wife next?”

“If she dies, it’ll be because of you!”

Negan’s anxiety had given over to anger as he curled his lip. “I save people, Rick. I stop people from dying, and if you had let me do my job, your boy would be alive. So back the hell down before someone else gets hurt.” He tossed the device onto the floor and placed a hand over his eyes.

He sat like that for a moment before grabbing the walkie talkie. He was going to see you in a minute, but that didn’t quell his familial overprotectiveness. With a sigh, Negan got to his feet.

“So, you still breathing up there?” He waited for your reply, but all Negan got was dead air. It was stupid, how such a thing could make him queasy, but it wasn’t every day he had to deal with a miscarriage scare. He tried again. “Unless you’re getting your freak on with yourself, I’m gonna throw you out the window if you don’t pick up the damn radio.” When Negan was met with static, he grit his teeth. “Fuck,” he muttered before storming out of the room.

~*~

You had relit the fire. As you stared into the dancing flames, you slowly swayed from foot to foot. The crackling embers and the heat that licked your skin slowly sucked you into the inferno. All of the happiness and love you had found in the last year slowly burned away while you shuffled the photos in your hands.

Burnt church, charred homes, melted cars…it was all Negan. There was a reason why Dante described hell as an inferno; because fire was nature’s most destructive and merciless killer. It was the most painful way to die and left nothing but destruction in its wake. Fire couldn’t be tamed or reasoned with. It only destroyed.

You heard the door swing open.

Negan held up a finger. “I asked you to do _one_ thing.”

You didn’t take your eyes away from the fire as you wordlessly held up the pictures.

Recently Negan had begun to treat you like you were going to break, so he gingerly took the photos from your hand. It only took a glance for him to realize what they were. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Shit,” he whispered, shaking his head.

You finally ripped your eyes away from the fire. “So you did do it?”

“You know how this works, sweetheart.” He leaned on Lucille. “No one was hurt.”

You snorted. “Yeah, bombing a whole neighborhood is just _proving-a-point!_ ” you mocked.

Negan placed a hand over his heart. “You are fucking _adorable_ when you’re angry!” he declared, leaning back and biting his lip, looking much too giddy for how pissed off you were.

You were boiling. He was treating this like a joke, as he did with everything. The screams of the Gardner family rang in your ears as you stepped forward and gave him a shove.

Years of fighting to survive had given Negan fast reflexes and he only stumbled a step before he righted himself. He looked up at you, this time the smile was gone.

“Honey, I like it rough but that’s not okay.” His voice had lowered and his eyes narrowed. He was finally taking you seriously. “If you were anyone else-”

“You’d blow me up?” Your voice was getting louder as you walked towards him. “Iron me? Gut me open like a pig? Bash my brains in in front of my loved ones?” Your vision was getting blurry as big, salty tears began to slide down your cheeks. You were becoming hysterical. “I’ve been standing up for you, saying that people don’t know the ‘real you.’” You jabbed a finger at your face. “Turns out that _I_ don’t know the real you.”

“You do know the real me, asshole,” Negan retaliated. “I’m the one who, I dunno, saved your ass more times than I can actually count because I am one hell of a guy!”

You shook your head, stunned by his delusions. “Jesus, Rick, Olivia…they were all right.” Your voice softened and your lower lip twitched. “You’re the goddamn devil.” You reached out, wanting to shove him again, but he took you by the wrist and brought you to him.

Negan pressed you against his chest and wrapped an arm around you.

“You fucking know me,” he insisted softly, burying his nose in your hair.

You were tempted to give in as the smell of him overwhelmed you. Negan was warm and his embrace made you feel safe for a moment.

It didn’t last.

Your eyes flicked down and you watched as Negan readjusted his grip on Lucille. Your reaction was instinctual and quick. Immediately you jumped backwards.

That’s when Negan’s heart shattered. He looked at his bat. “You don’t think I’d actually hurt you?” He looked at your waist. “And our kid?”

The look of hurt was so genuine that you almost cracked. “I won’t let you.” You shoved past him.

“Hold on!” Negan reached for your arm, but you were gone.

He knew you would never forgive him about the bombings. Your trauma ran too deep and he had broken you too many times. You couldn’t keep gluing a porcelain doll back together, and you were passed the point of salvage.

For most men.

Negan flew out of the apartment.

The time he spent in the trailer with Gabriel had stuck with him. What had that creep said? _“I think it takes quite a bit of bravery to tell someone that you love them.”_ God, he hated that guy with his freaky smile and potato head. Dude didn’t even blink, but his words still echoed in Negan’s mind.

He hadn’t given Lucille a damn thing. He had treated her like shit and she passed away. This was Negan’s second chance – he had to give you everything. What’s more, he was going to have a son. Negan wasn’t going to have his boy grow up with a coward for a father. He had to be strong for him and for you.

But first he had to grow a pair and make this right because God fucking damn it, did he love you.

You only had one other place you had called home in the Sanctuary, and that was your old room. Negan came to a stop in front of your door only to find it already open. A surge of hope rushed through him – maybe you were already here.

As Negan stepped into the room, a curse fell from his lips.

Empty.

Negan began to rack his brain, searching every nook and cranny of his memory for any other place you could be. The realization hit him with the memory of you with your nose in a book, lounged on the warm asphalt. He remembered being amazed at how peaceful you looked, surrounded by the rasping dead.

It didn’t take long for Negan to reach the yard. As he stepped out into the afternoon, he immediately felt his pulse begin to even. You were reclining among the corpses, gazing at the robin’s egg blue sky. Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Negan descended the stairs and crossed the yard.

Oh, shit. Now he actually had to talk to you.

Negan never had a problem talking to women. He was a real Rico Suave before the outbreak, getting women in bed with only a charming smile and a heated look. Yet as he walked towards you, Negan already found himself becoming tongue tied. The last time he had been vulnerable his whole world had ended.

Negan came to a stop at your side and looked at the sky. “Next time you decide to cloud gaze, make sure there are some fuckin’ clouds.”

When you didn’t laugh, Negan quirked an eyebrow because mad at him or not, he was pretty hilarious.

He ran a hand over his mouth and sighed. “Listen, I-” That’s when he looked down.

The entire world was snuffed out as choked gasps shuttered between your blue lips, the same shade as the fingers you were using to claw at your neck. Next to you was a broken needle and spoon.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Negan swore, dropping down to his knees and ripping the tie from your arm. His shaking hands hovered over you uselessly, at a loss for what to do. He couldn’t leave you alone to get Carson. He knew that the doctor couldn’t do anything anyway.

He took your head lovingly into his lap. “Just breathe. Can you do that, for me?”  He moved the hair out of your eyes. “Don’t fucking do this to me again.”

For the love of Christ, the world couldn’t be this cruel. The first time he had lay eyes on you, soaking wet and chilled to the bone, Negan had an overwhelming urge to look after you. He had promised you that these were going to be the golden years, and he had truly meant it. Yet as he watched bubbles of foam begin to froth from your mouth, he realized that it was a load of horseshit.

Chest compressions. He could try that.

Before he could lay you out, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your body began to spasm.

It was as you twisted and twitched that Negan’s world finally shattered and his eyes shined.

You were dying.

Negan ripped off his jacket and folded it under your head.  He turned you on your side before he sat back, forced to watch you writhe as he stayed helplessly by the sidelines.

He remembered how gently you had held his hand as you sewed up his palm at the chemical plant and how much shit he had given you when you admitted that he was your best friend. Looking back, it made his heart ache at how utterly sweet it was that someone could find a friend in someone like him – but that was you.

He was going to be a daddy. He had come down here to say that he loved you.

Negan looked up when you stilled. When he called your name, he didn’t even recognize his voice. It was weak, spoken only from a man who was completely broken.

Reaching forward, Negan touched two fingers to the side of your neck and held his breath. Nothing.

That’s when Negan, the brutal and bloodthirsty leader of the Saviors, broke down. He stayed there with you until you came alive for the second time. This time, he had the courage to slip the knife through your skull.

He owed you that.

~*~

He didn’t know why he bothered.

Rick, Alexandria, the Hilltop, the Kingdom…Negan just really didn’t give a shit. So when the pistol exploded in his hand, he wasn’t even bothered. Eugene betrayed him and he and all of his people were probably about to die.

Cool. Cool. Cool.

You were dead, so who gave a shit?

The only thing that Negan still wanted to do was cave Rick’s skull in. Negan had made peace with the fact that he had killed you, but that prick certainly stoked the flames.

He stumbled down the grassy hill, with Rick hot on his heels. Even with his hand a bloody mess Negan was able to outrun the sheriff.

Panting, Negan pressed his back against a lone tree. He was in pain, bloody and bruised – but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt in his chest. Since you were gone Negan had felt empty. After Lucille died, he had been angry. He drank himself black every night and had meaningless sex in a desperate need to distract himself from his loss. It didn’t do shit, of course.

But this time, Negan was hollow, as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. A part of him had died with you and the baby – Nicholas, on the day you had overdosed. His brave baby bird had broken its neck and been eaten alive despite his best efforts. Carson had been right – he couldn’t handle your addiction alone. He only made it worse, triggering your PTSD at every turn, frightening you to the point you would run away, sobbing as you plunged a needle full of poison into your veins.

He killed his little boy.

Negan knew that he’d never touch anyone ever again. He would bet his life that his dick would actually recede into his body. Normally, such a thought would make him laugh, but you had taken laughter with you as well.

Peaking around the tree, Negan saw that Rick was within striking distance. Throwing caution to the wind, he tackled the fucker. All of his anger, frustration, and hurt was taken out onto Rick’s body as Negan smashed Lucille into his midsection. In a violent tangle of punches, the brawl came to the end when he finally had Rick on the ground.

Panting, Negan grabbed Lucille. “Little FYI, I _chose_ not to kill your son. I _chose_ not to kill a parent in front of his damn kid. But _you_ ,” –Negan dealt Rick a vicious Kick to the stomach, causing the men to curl into a ball- “worm your way into my family with those fucking photographs. And now my wife is dead.”

Rick looked up. “You did that.”

Negan kicked Rick again. “You stirred the fucking pot.” Before he could say anymore, Rick swiped his foot against Negan’s ankles. The man dropped to the ground.

“It’s over,” Rick panted. “You, you’re people. It’s finished.”

Negan shook his head, glancing up at Rick. “Have you met me? I’ll worm my way out. Always have.” He stood up. “Now it’s mano y mano. I got me a bigt ol’ bat and you have a tiny prick.”

Rick held up a hand. “We still have a chance for peace – to work together.”

Negan laughed bitterly. “Oh, that time has long passed. Light’s out Rick!”

Taking a step back, Rick licked his dry lips. “Give me a chance. I can convince you. It’s what [Y/n] would have wanted.”

At this Negan stilled. “Don’t talk about her!” he snapped through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to do that after the shit you pulled!" He was losing control of his emotions, he knew – but he didn’t care.

Rick shook his head. “We both cared about her,” he explained soothingly, lowering his voice. His blue eyes began to glisten. “We’ve both done things that we regret.”

“I loved her,” Negan admitted, doing his best to keep it together even though he was being torn apart. He felt his eyes start to water, and for the first time, he didn’t give a fuck. “She didn’t deserve this.” He looked down as the tears escaped. “I tried to save her. It should have been my ass choking to death like a fucking dog.”

“You can still make it right.” Rick motioned behind him. “We can build something. It’s what you’d want for your boy. It’s what I’d want for Carl.”

At the mention of his son, Negan looked up. Before he could respond, Rick jolted forward. It took Negan a moment to realize what had happened. It wasn’t until a searing pain exploded across his neck and a waterfall of warm blood gushed down onto his chest did it hit him.

The fucker slit his throat.

And it was hilarious.

He fell to his knees and looked up at his foe. Reaching up to his neck, he felt the hot blood coat his hand. Negan smiled.

“You son of a bitch.” He tried to laugh, but it hurt and only increased the blood flow. “The last memory of my baby boy is gonna be you using him against me. Who’s the bad guy now, Rick?”

Feeling weak and vision fading, Negan dropped to the ground. He hoped to God he would die soon. He couldn’t handle Rick’s pontificating for another second. How someone could slit another’s throat and then declare no hard feelings was absolutely asinine. Negan didn’t believe in God, but he liked to think he could see you.

“Save him.”

Negan chuckled. With all of his strength, he spoke. “You can’t save me, asshole.”

Rick turned. “We’re gonna force you to watch us thrive.”

Negan shook his head, grinning. “No, Rick,” he corrected, thinking of your lifeless body, “I’m already dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No canon dialogue in this puppy.
> 
> I have a lot of important shit to say, so read!
> 
> Wow. I can't believe this is over. Thank you so much for sticking through 45 goddamn chapters. While this may be the end, keep your eyes peeled for something special for this story. So don't unsubscribe from it just yet!
> 
> I'm really sorry this took so long to publish. It was very hard to write for a number of reasons, some of them obvious.
> 
> For those that really enjoyed this, I'm planning on another Negan story that will hopefully will be up in the next few weeks. I had so much fun with this and it has been my favorite story to write by FAR. Your comments and support have meant the world to me. 
> 
> If you want to send me prompts, shoot them over to my [tumblr](https://dennhomchikn.tumblr.com/). I'll take the ones I like!


	46. Alternative Ending: A Couple of Kooks

Negan stood at the head of the table. “As of this morning, we got corpses here,” - he drew a circle on the blueprint with a black marker - “the second kitchen, and the room with the water heater. Now, we can survive for a couple weeks with these shits here, but people are going to start turning on each other. So it’s best we nip this in the ass while we still can. I want this place to have its own food source, water, electricity, and industry – just like the Sanctuary.” Negan looked up. “So, let’s put our thinking caps on and figure out how to do this.” When nobody spoke, he snorted. “Well, don’t everyone talk at once!”

Your eyes scanned the room. You sat in the Buchanan Conference Room in the Greenbriar Hotel, your new home. After you had broken Negan out of confinement and escaped from Alexandria with your men, you wandered, taking shelter in abandoned buildings and making camp as you searched for your permanent home. You had a baby on the way and you were a spoiled group. Anything less than the Sanctuary wouldn’t do.

It seemed like an impossible task, but Negan took care of his people; and when he promised to deliver, he delivered. Your travels had taken you to West Virginia, and from there Negan had brought you to Greenbriar.

The Hotel was built for the zombie apocalypse. Underneath the building was a cement bunker that, until the mid-'90s, was one of the United States government's Continuity of Command locations. If it was good enough for Congress to hide during a nuclear attack, it was certainly good enough for you. Above ground the place was fully equipped and shockingly intact. It had been closed for renovations during the outbreak and was almost walker free.

Tapping your finger against the table, you studied the slew of new faces that sat around the conference table. After the Saviors had lost the war to Rick and the Alexandrians, there was a great shuffle in the hierarchy. You lost a lot of men and women, due both to death and betrayal. Your fist clenched at the thought of Dwight. You had mixed feelings about your burned brother. As much as Negan would say otherwise, the Saviors did not treat Dwight well, but Negan was your husband, and you would never be okay with anyone betraying his trust.

As for Eugene…you weren’t surprised. Part of you was proud. It took a lot of courage to stand up to someone as terrifying as Negan, especially when he had so much to lose. You couldn’t blame him.

Turning back to Negan, you focused your attention on your favorite new face. Clinging to Negan’s leg like a koala was your two-year-old son, Nicholas. The boy was absolutely gorgeous, with a mop of his father’s dark hair and hazel eyes. It made sense, because he was absolutely in love with his daddy. You would have been jealous if it wasn’t so damn cute.

You watched as Nicholas finally let go of Negan’s pant leg and waddled under the table. Before he could reach his destination, he tripped.

“Fuck!”

Your face fell into your hands as the slur fell from your son’s innocent lips. You had tried to convince Negan to stop cursing around him, hoping to instil some decent manners into your child, but you had long ago learned that asking Negan to censor himself was like asking a fish to walk on land. You just hoped that as Nicholas grew older, he would mature enough to understand how to conduct himself.  

You ducked down. “Nicholas, get out from there!” The little boy only crawled further underneath the table. You looked to Negan. “Can you get him?”

Closing his eyes, Negan sighed. With a flick of his wrist, the council got to their feet and shuffled out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Negan crouched down. His look of irritancy was immediately replaced by empathy.

“What are you doing under there, you lil’ shit?”

“Da!” Nicholas careened forward, slamming into Negan’s chest hard enough to make the older man let out an ‘oof.’

Negan picked Nicholas up with a groan and sat him on the table. He raised his eyebrows and crouched down. “Why are you acting like such an asshole?”

Nicholas scrunched his face as he racked his brain, trying to find the right words in his two-year-old vocabulary to express himself. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he reached for Negan’s throat.

“Ouch,” he declared, tracing the scarred flesh with his stumpy fingers.

Negan nodded. “Yeah, fucking ouch.” He gathered the little boy in his arms. He looked to you as Nicholas buried his face in the crook of his neck. “He’s just tired. Two hour nap and he’ll shut the hell up.”

You stood up and kissed the top of Nicholas’ head. “I’ll put him down.” You went to take him, but Nicholas only tightened his grip around Negan’s neck.

 Negan looked at you and smirked. “I got it. C’mon, bud.”

You followed them out of the room, watching as Nicholas mercilessly played with the zipper of Negan’s breast pocket.

“Dude, you’re gonna break it.” Negan grabbed his little hand and pushed it down.

You lingered behind them, always entranced by their interactions. It was truly a sight to see Negan trade in Lucille for a bright eyed toddler. The change had happened right after Nicholas was born. Suddenly the mean bat no longer rested on his shoulder. Negan had moved on, and you were proud of him.

He was still absolutely terrifying, but something’s got to give.

Negan stopped in front of your door. Slipping the keys from his pocket, he dad double tasked and managed to unlock the door.

“God, this place is fucking ugly.” He looked at the black and white checkered marble floor of the foyer.

You had taken residence in the master suite, which consisted of two bedrooms, a rooftop terrace, and a parlor with a wet bar. While it sounded good on paper, the decoration was absolutely appalling. From blue striped walls to green carpet, floral chairs, the suite was truly ugly as hell.

In all honestly, the entire hotel was, but it was safe.

“I want to do it!” Nicholas declared, squirming ferociously. As soon as Negan plopped him onto his feet, he shot off to his room.

Negan watched him go. Scratching his cheek, he sighed. “That guy can be a real douchebag.”

You pressed your face into his chest, smiling. “You can’t say that.”

Negan wrapped an arm around you. “Why? He’s a douchebag. I fuckin’ love him, but damn. Sometimes…” He ran a hand through your hair. “Go up to the roof. I’ll take care of him. He likes me more anyway.”

You scoffed in mock offense, but conceded. After a kiss to Negan’s scruffy cheek, you went to your bedroom and opened the French doors. You took a deep breath of fresh air and walked out onto the terrace. Placing your hands on the stone railing, you looked over the front garden. It was wild and overgrown, but you found a sad beauty in the wild flowers.

You closed your eyes when a set of fingers laced themselves through your hair.

“He’s out like a light,” Negan reported, his body warm against your back.

You reached back, cupping the nape of his neck as you watched the sunset. “Thank God.”

Negan rested his chin on the top of your head and hummed in agreement. He gave you an affectionate squeeze.

“I love you,” you breathed.

Negan chuckled. “Of course you do, sweet girl.”

You closed your eyes and listened to the birds.

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not in good conscious end this with my original ending with that season finale. So Negan getting his throat slit is the greatest thing that has happened to you all as far as this is concerned.
> 
> We're officially done! The new fic will be called _A Hand for You_ , inspired by a very happy, loving Hootie and the Blowfish song.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://onthebench83.tumblr.com/) and feel free to send me prompts!


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